


Silence

by TheLiveshipParagon



Series: Silence [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Chivalry, Cop Reader, Difficult Decisions, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fight Sex, Fights, Fluff, Frank Castle - Freeform, Gratuitous Smut, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Heavy Subject Matter, Light Bondage, Marking, Military Kink, Near Death Experiences, Officer - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Painplay, Police, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Play, Reader with surname, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Russo is a psychopath, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Shooting, Slow Burn, Smut, Sweet, Sweet Frank, The Punisher, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Torture, Trust Issues, Vile Frank, Violence, Weightlifting Reader, can't catch a break, dominant frank
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 09:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 109,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLiveshipParagon/pseuds/TheLiveshipParagon
Summary: You're a cop in the Hell's Kitchen Precinct. You go to the library to get away from everyone when you've had a shitty day at work. You notice a muscular stranger has taken up residence near your usual chair. Little did you know your life was going to go in a whole different direction.** As of Chapter 21, back on hold until Punisher Season 2 arrives ****** I do take one-shot requests for this fic ****





	1. Silence in the Library

Another shitty day at work. You yank your uniform off, dropping it to the bed and sighing. You looked down at the insignia. Why did you ever bother? You thought becoming a cop would help people but all you ever seem to do is to clean up the mess left behind by the city gangsters.

You'd spent most of your night shift babysitting a homicide scene, pushing ravenous reporters back across the line. Some punk kid doing his initiation had shot an elderly couple.

You grimace. Was there even any humanity left in this goddamn place any more? You couldn't shake the image out of your head of the two people, holding hands as they were splayed out on the floor, a corona of blood staining the roses the husband had gotten for his wife.

You needed to get out. You dragged your gym gear on and stalked out of the door. You practically attacked the weights, going heavier than usual. You liked the gym at this time. No one was around, no shitty meatheads telling you your form was off or gym bunnies doing stupid selfies as they stood on the elliptical for hours on end. Your muscles strained and burned with the effort and it took you an hour before you felt like you'd worked your tension and aggression off.

You showered, getting into some old style jeans and a sweater with a faux fur collar. Hey it was cold this time of year.

Four am approached and you still weren't ready to go to bed. Time to hit your next favourite place for some peace and quiet.

You walked to the old library and beeped your pass into the scanner, allowing you through. The familiar night librarian gave you a weary smile, “Rough night?”

“Sure was,” you laugh.

You had an understanding with her. She'd let you roam around any of the books, even some of the restricted archive because you'd gotten rid of some assholes trying to torch the place.

You walk to the mystery section. You felt like you needed something that you could get lost in, puzzle over. You grabbed a particularly thick tome and went to settle into your favourite bean bag chair. It was fucking childish sure but it gave you some sort of comfort. You sink into the chair, letting it cocoon you, before opening the book and turning to the first page.

Movement catches your eye and you look up, a little alarmed to find someone in here at this time. He stands out a mile away. Heavy built, huge muscles, slight Neanderthal profile, thick hair and beard. He looks completely out of place as he thumbs through a copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, completely absorbed.

Huh, you thought. Guess some meatheads aren't so dumb after all.

He turns to you, feeling you stare and catches your eye. He's pretty intense, gaze boring into yours as he seems to assess you. You give him a polite smile before returning to your book. You just wanted to ignore people at this point in time.

You can see the man out of your peripheral vision stare a moment longer before returning to his own book. You relax a little, glad that he wasn't about to start talking to you or causing trouble.

You both sit in silence, just soaking the words in until you glance at your watch and realise the sun will be coming up soon. You place your favourite bookmark in your page and close it before getting up, making a great racket as the beans fall back into place and then walking home.

 

**

 

Here's there the next time you go, same place, same book.

You sit down in the chair and settle yourself. You look up and he gives you a small nod which you return. Two humans, content in peace, content to just let the worlds of your books carry you away.

 

**

 

The next time you look up as he closes his book with a heavy thump and sighs, leaning back in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head. He looks at a bit of a loss.

You're curious, you admit, not that you want to bother him particularly but you're curious as to what a guy like him is doing reading the classics.

You get up from your chair and walk towards the section that holds the vintage books. You pick out The Woman in Black, before bringing it back to the seating area. You approach him, a little nervous but lay the book down in front of him.

“Try this one,” you say. “Bit of tension, bit of mystery.”

You don't wait for his reaction but go to sit back down and open your book back up again. You watch him again from your peripheral vision. He looks at you, looks down at the tome and you swear you see a slight smirk before he picks the book up and starts reading.

You hold the book over your face slightly so he doesn't see your smile.

 

**

 

You settle down but the mystery man isn't there. Oh well. Guess he was probably getting some sleep for once. Not everyone took as many night shifts as you did but hey it paid stupidly well and you had no social life to speak of.

Sometime into the fifteenth chapter, you hear heavy boots slapping on the wooden floor and the guy walks around into the seating area, taking his usual table and sitting down with a hefty sigh.

You try not to stare but you notice he's still holding the book you recommended to him.

An hour goes by and you're both sat in silence, only the rustling of pages belying anything is going on.

There's a slight ruckus and you turn to follow the sound. The guy on the table seems to tense up, ready.

A teenage boy comes stumbling in, flanked by two younger kids. They whoop loudly, the sound echoing harshly off of the walls. It sounds magnified as hell as the silent bubble breaks.

“Hey hey! Look at this guy!” the older boy says, mischief gleaming on his face. “He looks tough.”

They come up to the seating area, ignoring you as they make a beeline for the guy.

“Big tough guy,” they jeer. “Look at him, reading his sissy books!”

You seen the vein popping in the man's neck as he tries to keep himself under control. He's like a coiled snake, just waiting to strike. You'd better intervene before this shit gets nasty.

“Hey mister, you gonna be sad if I rip this?” the kid snatches the book and dangles it.

You're on your feet faster than you care to know.

“Hey, beat it,” you say, forcefully.

The kids look at you before bursting out laughing.

“Whatcha gonna do? Shush us to death?”

You walk up to the leader and grab the book back slamming it on the table, “I said beat it.”

The kid turns to the man and laughs, “You that much of a pussy you're gonna let a girl fight for you?”

You grab him by the scruff of his hoodie, “Maybe it's because if he did this he'd break you in two whereas you might actually stand a chance of living if I do it,” you growl.

The kid blanches slightly and you shove him backwards. His friends beg him to retreat but he doesn't seem to want to lose face. He looks back at them and then back at you before lunging at you, fist going towards your head. You grab his arm, twisting it around and then slam his head onto the table before letting him go. He crumples to the floor, screaming like a child.

“Get him out of here and don't come back. You got that?” you say and the other kids nod furiously before gathering their friend and scurrying away.

You turn back to the man who seems mildly amused.

“You ok?” you ask.

He nods, before picking up the book and waving it towards you in a gesture that you believe to be 'thank you'.

You go back to your seat and sit down, trying to calm your adrenalin. Well shit, you got all worked up again now.

It takes you a long time before you're able to fully absorb yourself back in the words in front of you.

 

**

 

The guy is at his table again. He seems to be pretty far through the book.

You sit down, further in the seat this time and let the bean bag cushion your head.

You close your eyes for a moment until you hear vibrations through the floor. You look up and see the man is walking over to you. He gives you a nod and comes to sit in the bean bag chair opposite yours.

You have to stifle your amusement at the sight of this hulking guy on a luminous pink bean bag. You think you keep it together well.

He shuffles slightly, getting settled and gives you a look of 'not bad' before turning to the penultimate chapter in his book.

You feel a strange sort of connection. Two hotheads just trying to find calm in the world.

When you get up to leave for home, he stands up with you, walking you to the front door. You find the gesture quite sweet. You both stand at the entrance and he gives you a small pat on the shoulders before walking off down the street.

“Good night!” you call after him and he gives you a small wave, not looking back.

 

**

 

Today is the shittiest of days.

You went in for a basic welfare check on a kid and ended up taking the kid out of the home before your partner went in and arrested her father.

Poor girl was shivering in the passenger seat of your car, bruises showing clear handprints on her upper arms.

“It's ok, sweetie,” you try and soothe, “He's not going to be able to hurt you again.”

Back at the precinct, it didn't take long to see the full extent of what went on in that household and it made you fucking sick to your stomach.

You keep a brave face for her but it's tearing you up inside. Of all the things you deal with on a daily basis, this is the worst....anything but _that_.

By the time you get home, you're almost straight back out and in the gym, hammering the dumbbells as you try to wipe the revulsion out of your system.

You're later than usual to the library. It's gone five am when you roll in. You must look like shit because the librarian gives you a pitying look.

You grab the book you've been reading from your bag and make to the seating area. The buff guy is already sat in the pink bean bag, on the last few pages from the looks of it.

You drop down heavily and try to read but your mind keeps floating back to that girl. You give it your best shot, concentrating as hard as you can, your brow deeply furrowed.

The man finishes the book and closes it with a satisfied sigh. He looks at you as you try your best to stay distracted. You think he can see it written all over you.

You let the book flop from your hands and hit the floor before putting them through your hair and huffing slightly. You'd close your eyes to save yourself some embarrassment of him seeing you like this but you don't want to see that image of her replaying in your mind.

The man stands up and holds out his hand. You stare at him for a moment, trying to detect anything untoward but he seems genuine. You take it and let him pull you up. Seems like you weigh nothing at all to him. He takes you by the hand and leads you up to the lecture rooms, flipping on one of the lights. You step in and look at him, questioningly, wondering why he's brought you here. You look around, hoping to see something that he might wanna show you but you're surprised when his hands take your waist and pull you back into him.

Well you weren't expecting that....

He waits, giving you ample chance to wriggle free, to push him away, but you don't.

Hell it's been a really long time since you were with someone. This job doesn't exactly allow for flourishing romance.

You give a small nod, not daring to look backwards. He moves backwards, away from you and locks the door, before going to the large windows and pulling the blinds completely down. He comes back to you, looking straight into your eyes, searching for further consent.

“Yes,” you say in a quiet voice.

That's all it takes for him to spin you around and his hands to be wandering all over you. You lean back into the touch as he roughly grabs at your hips. His fingers dig into the flesh but it's not painful. Your arm reaches backwards, curling around his neck, giving him better access to you. He takes your hair in one hand and pulls your head to one side, biting heavily at the soft skin of your collarbone. You whimper a little and he freezes.

He's afraid he's hurt me.

Your other hand, reaches back to grip his thigh and fuck is it solid. You can feel the muscle moving under the skin.

He takes that as a sign to start again and quickly yanks your top over your head, discarding it on the floor, rough fingers, pawing at your bare skin. You're moaning softly now and try to pull your hand higher but he grasps your wrist and pulls it behind his neck to join your other one, leaving you completely open and exposed to him.

His hands move to grab your breasts through the fabric of your bra, kneading them with urgency. He takes either side of the cups and pauses. Through your haze you vaguely realise he means to tear the thing straight of you. A thrill runs down your body and the spot between your thighs starts aching.

“Uh huh,” is all you manage and with little effort, he rips it straight off, the two parts hanging uselessly from your shoulders.

The way his hands travel from your ribcage to your bare breasts is driving you crazy. The touch is too light and you arch into it. He chuckles darkly behind you and damn is that voice low. You feel like it vibrates through you.

He grips harder and you let out a small gasp, urging him on.

You feel like he's still holding back, too afraid to fully let loose. You're a tough girl, you're not made of paper for god's sake.

“That all you got?” you say teasingly and he growls in your ear, ripping the remnants of the bra and letting them drop to the floor before he's picking you up and bending you over the lectern.

Damn he's strong.

He hitches your long skirt up, tearing your underwear off too and you shiver as you feel the air conditioning hit the skin. Nails rake down your back and you grip the wood hard. You reach back for him but he takes both your hands in one of his his and holds them out in front of you, stopping you from making contact. You struggle a little bit but he just tightens the hold and bites at your shoulder, making you squirm.

You hear a belt buckle clanking and the sound of a zip and you tense in anticipation. With no warning, he shoves into you forcefully and his hand clamps over your mouth before you're able to moan loudly. You bite at his fingers and he draws his hand away quickly, slamming it down on your ass. You clench around him and he chuckles again before releasing your wrists and winding a hand in your hair to pull you back into an arch before starting a brutal pace. He slams into you over and over and you try desperately to keep your noise at a minimum, knowing there are people not too far away. Your fingers are white with the effort of steadying yourself. He painfully tugs on your hair again, deepening the curve of your spine and brings his hand down again, the heat of his hand leaving an imprint on your skin.

“Fuck,” is all you manage to gasp.

How was he keeping such a bruising pace?!

His free hand drops down and finds your sweet spot, calloused fingers skipping harshly across it and you buck as your nerves are overstimulated.

He groans behind you and damn is that a hot sound....

He leans over you, skin touching yours as he drives even harder.

“Oh god,” you cry as you feel your orgasm building. He picks up the pace with his hand whilst the other releases your hair and goes over your mouth again. He takes the nape of your neck in his mouth and bites hard.

You half scream into his hand, the sound muffled as your orgasm barrels into you, sending tremors throughout your body and sending you into mini spasms.

He growls behind you, not letting up as he fucks you through it. You feel completely pliable, completely at his mercy as he takes what he wants from you.

It's not long after that he pulls out and you feel hot liquid splatter on your thighs. Fuck, you hadn't even thought of keeping yourself protected.

He collapses on top of you for a second whilst he gathers himself before moving away and you hear him rezip his pants.

You lazily come back to a standing position, feeling his cum make tracks down your legs. He doesn't move to wipe anything away but merely pulls your long skirt back down and turns you back around, smirking.

Guess he had a kink for that kind of thing.

You look at him, completely flushed down to your chest and smile, “Thank you, I think I really needed that.”

He nods, almost graciously as he moves to pick your top off the floor and hands it to you. You take it and pull it over your head, feeling a little strange that you have no bra underneath. He picks up the remnants of lace and holds it out questioningly towards you.

“Toss it,” you say, smiling.

He shrugs and drops it in the trash can.

You think it'll be quite a funny story for the cleaners when they get here.

He holds the door open for you and you walk through it. You go to the entrance.

You're sure the receptionist gives you a knowing look but you're not a hundred percent.

You get to the door and you think things may be awkward but he gives you another pat on the shoulder before walking away.

You respect that. You had a need, he answered that need and he's not going to be clingy about it. It was great sex, the best you've had, you reckon, but you don't think you have the energy to put anything extra into it.

Even so, in the back of your mind, you're hoping this may become a regular thing. A stolen moment in the library with a stranger.

What would your mother say if she could see you now?

 


	2. Silence in the Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cops, robbers and a vigilante

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!  
> Just dropping by with the second chapter. You've got a predetermined surname in this fic but your first name remains your own. I've got a bit of a vendetta against writing 'Y/N'. So welcome back to the story, Officer Byrne!  
> Hopefully this'll be a semi regular thing alongside my other fics.
> 
> \- TLP x

And so it goes.

It doesn't happen every time you go to the library and you don't go looking for it. The mysterious guy seems to sense when you're not right, when your mind is trying to wipe the horrors of the day and he offers his hand out when he sees you trying to quell your anger, your frustration.

Since you let him get more rough with you the first time he's been testing your boundaries, backing off when you gasp in pain but you let him know when to continue and he's eager to pick up the pace.

The bruises are getting pretty hard to cover up, especially around the neck which he seems to favour. You get the idea he really likes marking you.

That suspicion is confirmed one day when you try to pull some wipes out of your bag to clean yourself up after he's spilled over your back. He quickly wrenches the packet from your hand before throwing it back into your bag and growls heavily. Well ok....he _really_ likes marking his territory so to speak.

It's a strange dynamic the two of you have. Despite being intimate in so many ways, you never face each other when you're fucking. You're always bent away. There's no eye contact, there's no kissing, nothing romantic about it. It's just purely carnal and impersonal, like the two of you are merely sex toys to each other.

There are the days when it doesn't happen. The days where you sit silently reading across from one another and you like those days too.

And in all the days you've been around each other, he's never spoken a single word to you.

You finish your mystery book on a particular night and get up to go find another, you feel like you're in the mood for something dark. You scan the shelves, picking up one story and reading the back. You take a while. Nothing seems to jump out at you particularly and most you have read before. You stand, hands on your hips just looking at the wall of literature in front of you.

You hear him approach behind you. There was no mistaking that heavy gait. You think briefly he'd be a shit ninja.

He taps you politely on the shoulder and you turn around. He's holding a book out to you. Oh! Was he giving you a recommendation now?

You take it. It's an Agatha Christie book. Poirot to be precise. Death on the Nile.

You smile slightly. You've read it before, sure but somehow coming from him, you feel you'd like to read it again.

“Thank you,” you say earnestly. “And....I have one you may like since you've finished The Woman In Black.”

You turn back to the shelves and your fingers skip over the books until you find it, The Maltese Falcon. You hand it to him and he takes it, grunting in thanks.

“Think of it like those old film noirs. The chain smoking detectives and comedy gangsters.”

You swear he makes a noise like a laugh but it's hard to tell with his voice being so damned low. He gives you a polite nod and gestures back to the bean bags with a look that says 'shall we?'.

You take him up on that and you both settle down in your squishy bean bags, just happy and content to get lost in your worlds.

In the silence of the library, every sound feels like a shout and you hear the pages turning more rapidly than usual and smile inwardly. Guess he really liked that book.

 

**

 

Oh fuck, you think, looking at your face in the bathroom mirror. He got you real good. You'd just finished another eventful night shift.

You'd followed an armed robber as he ran away from the bank he's just rolled over.

“Police! Put your hands over your head!” you shouted and he whirled round firing a shot off at you. You thanked god you had quick reflexes as you dropped to the ground and felt the bullet whiz past you.

You sprung up, charging him until you got close and let the taser barbs fly from your gun which hit him square in the chest. He tenses as the current flows through him and he grunts as he flops to the floor, stiff as a board. You let up on the voltage and grab your cuffs, kicking the gun away from the guy as you bend down to pull his arms behind his back. You feel his muscle tense and know he's about to struggle.

You don't expect him to flip over so quickly and his fist catches you by surprise as it slams into your cheek. You can feel the metallic tang of blood as it pools in your mouth and you spit to try and breathe better, the red tide dribbling down your lips.

You recover and kick his legs out from under him as he stumbles to his feet.

“Stay down!” you shout, practically jumping on him.

His head comes up rapidly and hits yours. You see stars briefly as you fall back but your hand grips his shirt and it stops you from rolling off him completely. You shove your forearm into the guy's throat and try to control his flailing limbs. He gets a few more licks in into your sides and you can feel there's going to be some bruising.

You sit on him, arm pressing into his windpipe, waiting for him to lose energy and his attempts at punching you become weaker. You take the opportunity to shift his body and manage to cuff his hands behind his back.

“Guess you really wanted to add assaulting an officer to your list huh?” you spit.

“Fuck off, lady,” the guy hisses.

You bundle him into the back of the car.

At the precinct, you see your partner Davies look at you in alarm.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Byrne, what the hell happened to you?” he asked, taking in your blossoming injuries.

“Someone didn't want to be arrested,” you joke. “What a surprise.”

He laughs, smile lighting up his face, “That's the last time I let you cover for me and go out single crewed. You obviously suck at this job.”

You fire a rubber band at his face and he ducks, “Asshole”, you smirk.

“You done for the night?” Davies asks.

“Yeah, think I'm gonna skip the gym tonight,” you sigh.

“Just take care of yourself ok?” Davies says, taking your shoulders in his hands. “I don't want to get another partner, I'm not good with change and I don't play nice with just anybody.”

You shove him playfully and say your goodbyes before clocking out and heading home.

 

**  
  
Although you don't want to aggravate your injuries, you don't want to stare at the ceiling all night either. You decide to head out to the library again.

It's dark, it's quiet. You don't feel the need to cover your face up with make up. You just want to hide away from the world.

The librarian gives you a look of alarm as you walk in but you smile at her, “You should have seen the other guy,” you joke.

She gives you a warm smile before making you wait at the entrance whilst she gets you a cup of cocoa.

“I don't know how you keep doing this,” she says, handing the mug over.

“Neither do I some nights. Thank you. I really appreciate this,” you say, before making a beeline for your chair. You don't really want to do the small talk thing tonight.

The guy is not there and you breathe a little sigh of relief. You don't really want to see him when you look this bad.

You settle in, book in one hand and mug in the other, taking slow sips as the cocoa runs down your throat and fills you with warmth. This was exactly what you needed.

You hear a noise above you and look up, still slightly on edge from earlier.

It's him.

He's on the balcony overlooking the main library concourse and his knuckles are practically white on the railing.

Oh shit.

You can see his jaw clenched like he's going to break his own teeth and his neck muscles are flexing as he tries to keep himself steady.

He stalks down the stairs, footfall heavier than usual as he comes to you. You see something like alarm and anger in his gaze as he stops in front of you, taking in the canvas of bruising on your face.

You try to use the same joke you used with the librarian but he barely flinches. He just stands there, muscles coiled and eyes intensely shining.

He holds his hand out and you take it but the rapid ascent makes your side groan in agony and you slightly curl in pain. He doesn't say a word but picks you straight up in his arms and heads up the stairs.

Is he seriously going to fuck you when you're like this?

You're heading to the same lecture room and he puts you down gently before tugging at your shirt, indicating you should put your arms up. You comply but it hurts like hell. He traces the bruises left by the robber and you hear a growl, not a growl of lust but a growl of pure anger. A growl that said he was furious somebody else had marked you like this.

He picks you up again and puts you face down on the table before coming to straddle your back.

You make to push up but you just gently pushes you back down again.

Strong hands start massaging your back and you're surprised. Somehow this feels more intimate than the sex. He seems to know exactly where the knots are in your muscles, where the bones have slightly clicked out of line, how to handle your tender skin. If you hadn't of already pegged him as a former military man, the way he expertly handles you confirms it.

You let yourself relax. No use trying to wriggle out of it, you feel that would just piss him off. Besides, he was giving you something more, something more than just fulfilling a need. He was taking care of you and it would be rude to throw that back in his face.

You feel a little sleepy by the time he finishes and he picks you up off the table, setting you down and redressing you.

His fingers come to your face and they skip over the spot where your lip has split. You wince slightly and he frowns.

You feel like you know exactly what he wants to ask and you oblige, “It got a little rough at work. I'm fine, really. Thank you, that really helped.”

He holds out a hand and leads you to the front entrance but he doesn't start walking down the street, instead he just looks at you. You search his eyes for a second before realising what it is he's doing.

“You're going to walk me back home?” you ask.

He nods slightly, still stoically staring at you.

You tug on his hand and he follows you, winding through the back alleys and down the nearly empty streets. Nobody gives you a second glance with him by your side.

You reach your block and turn to him.

“Thanks for walking me home, I got it from here.”

He just shakes his head from side to side.

“You're gonna walk me to the front door.”

A nod.

“Well ok then.”

You use your key fob and the foyer door clicks open. You head to the elevator and punch in the number for your floor. He doesn't let go of your hand the whole ride up.

When you get to your door, you put the key in the lock and look to him.

“You coming in?”

A head shake.

“Ok, well, thank you. That was really nice of you.”

He just gives you another nod. You're not quite sure what to do, whether to hug him or just walk in but before you have time to make that decision, he starts walking back to the elevator.

You feel like this whole thing just got a lot weirder and a lot more intense. Did he...did he care for you or was he just being a gentleman? You peel off your clothes and just drop onto the mattress. Right now you didn't care, you were just happy somebody gave a shit about you.

 

**

 

You're speeding in your patrol car, the sirens blaring and the lights whirling.

You're chasing a convict who's fled police custody whilst on bail. The guy is armed, dangerous and a human trafficker. Well shit, he's the goddamn criminal trifecta. You're sure you've seen sex crimes on his rap sheet too.

He's on foot, winding through the backstreets of Hells Kitchen, obnoxiously standing out in his custody jumpsuit.

Davies is watching from the passenger seat like a hawk.

“Stop!” he shouts.

You slam the brakes on and he turns to you, eyes wide with adrenalin, “I'll chase him through the alley, you block him off the other end.”

“Be careful,” you say, nodding.

Davies jumps out of the car and starts running towards the disappearing streak of grey and you ram your foot into the accelerator, flying around the bend as you rush down to the other end of the alley.

Despite the sirens, despite the noise of the tyres squealing, you hear it.

A gunshot.

Fuck.

Was that Davies or was that the guy?

You skid the car to a halt at the alley entrance and scramble out, gun at the ready.

Davies is on the floor. Oh fuck. He's not moving. The guy is standing over him with his pistol trained on Davies' prone form.

You don't have time to call out, time to even run towards the scene when this guy fires another shot directly into your partner's head.

“NO!” you shout and have to leap behind a dumpster as the convict whirls around and starts spraying bullets down the alley.

You get on your radio, “Officer down, officer down, corner of twenty fifth. Request backup. Suspect armed and firing.”

“Backup on the way. Sit tight. Do not engage.”

Fuck that. You peek around the corner and the guy is just waiting for you. He fires another shot which barely misses as you throw yourself back around your hiding spot. You hear the sound of him replenishing the cartridge. Ah shit. This was gonna be a long stand off.

You hear a noise like a roar and the sound of a guy screaming before there's a loud thud and you feel the dumpster move into you slightly with the impact.

What the fuck was going on?

You listen but all you hear is silence and you take the opportunity to commando roll out and point your gun where you thought the guy was, only the guy wasn't standing there. Someone else was.

Fuck.

You saw him. He'd shaved his head into a buzzcut, shaved his beard off so only rough stubble remained but you knew instinctively it was him. Library guy. Only....he was wearing _that_ bulletproof vest. The vest you'd seen splattered across so many headlines, all over the news shows. The vest that bore _that_ skull.

 

You'd been fucking The Punisher. The infamous Frank Castle.

 

He looks just as surprised as you when he sees you, standing there in your mussed up uniform and his eyes go wide.

“You're a cop.”

It's not a question. It's a statement. These are the first words he's ever spoken to you and his voice sounds like he's dragged it across sandpaper.

“You're Frank Castle,” you counter.

He nods.

You don't know what to do. He's not supposed to be alive. He was the most wanted man in Hell's Kitchen and he was standing right in front of you....what do you do?

You're still holding the gun, it's trained on him.

“The convict?” you ask.

“Dead,” he says gruffly. “Your partner's dead too. I'm real sorry 'bout that. Shoulda gotten here sooner.”

“ _You're_ supposed to be dead,” you say.

He chuckles, the sound throaty in his chest, “I don't go out so easy. So...this is it, huh?”

“This is it,” you repeat.

“What's it gonna be?” he holds his hands out wide.

“I really should take you in,” you say, the words hanging on your lips.

“So do it,” he counters.

He walks up to you, and positions his chest straight on the barrel of your gun, “Do it girl.”

You can't. You look straight into his eyes, remembering the kindness he's shown you, remembering the way he took care of you. You can't associate that man with the psychopath you've heard so much about. The murderer. Shit you've even just seen him kill a guy and you can't quite make that connection still.

“Come on girl!” he shouts and you flinch slightly. “I'm right here. Do what ya gotta do.”

You lower your gun and he seems a little surprised.

“Go,” you say.

He gives you a questioning look.

“Just go. I'll take care of this.”

He dips his face close to yours, “Don't be goin' soft on me. You know what I done, what I am.”

“I know. I'm not doing this out of fear for my own life or some shit like that. You're not the monster they say you are. Get out of here, but first you have to make it look like you took me down.”

His eyes widen before he frowns heavily, “I ain't doin' that.”

“There's a dashcam pointing right at us,” you say, motioning your head to the car. “If I let you go this easily, I'm going to get arrested myself.”

Frank looks to the car, idling at the end of the alley and makes a decision. He yanks you up by your shirt roughly and you yelp in surprise. Your legs dangle as he lifts you from the ground and you fake struggle against him. He barrels you into a side alley, away from the gaze of the camera before putting you down softly. He wipes some of the blood from his face and swipes it across yours before sighing and looking into your eyes.

“Why you doin' this?”

“You wanna live or not?” you ask, in little more than a whisper.

He doesn't answer, he just lets silence fall again. He holds you in a gaze that seems to last an age before the sound of sirens start coming into earshot.

“Go,” you whisper.

He places his huge hand on your cheek, running his thumb over your skin gently before he pulls away.

“Thank you Ma'am,” he says gruffly before disappearing up a ladder to the rooftop.

You make a show of stumbling and falling for the dashcam as you walk back and collapse next to your partner, weary as hell. You close your eyes as you feel the vibrations of many cars coming to a halt and the hands of your colleagues trying to rouse you.

“Byrne?!” they cry.

You open your eyes slightly, clutching your sergeants hand as he offers it to you.

“You ok, kid?” he asks, concern written over his face.

“Castle,” you murmur.

“What?”

“Frank Castle. He's alive.”

“Aww shit. Mahoney, get that dashcam ripped right now. Hang in then Byrne. You're fucking lucky to still be in one piece.”

“I'm not lucky,” you say, the tears that you've been holding back starting to roll down your face. “Davies...”

“I know, Byrne, I know. Just stay there, we're getting help.”

You lay on the ground as the rain that's been threatening to fall finally bursts from the cloud above. You look to the sky and see in the scattered moonlight a silhouette against the rooftop. The silhouette of Frank Castle looking down upon you before he disappears.

 

 


	3. Silence on the Rooftops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The word is out, Frank Castle is alive, which means you've got the whole damn government about to descend on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well oops, this turned into a monster chapter!
> 
> Angst, smut and minor fluff ahead.
> 
> Thanks to all you readers! I think this is becoming my favourite fic to write!
> 
> \- TLP x

You've never been so interrogated in your life.

The second the precinct gets on the wire about Frank Castle, the FBI, CIA, Homeland Security all descend on the station and they all want to speak to you.

You sit there, tear stained face dry and slightly cracking as one by one agents ask you the same questions.

“What did he say?”

“What did he do?”

“Did he spare you because you're a woman?”

“Do you know Frank Castle?”

“Did he kill Officer Daniel Davies?”

You give as best of an answer as you could, vehemently deny The Punisher had anything to do with your partner's death and that they should check the goddamn dashcam footage which shows that.

Clearly some of these agents haven't even done the proper research.

Your sergeant brings you a cocoa and a blanket and sits down opposite you.

“How you holding up, kid?” he asks in a fatherly tone.

“Like shit,” you answer honestly.

He takes your hand across the desk and squeezes, “Nearly over. There's only one more person to speak to and then I'll take you home. You look like you need some sleep.”

“I definitely need some sleep,” you sigh.

“Hang in there,” he says before he goes to the door and leaves.

You're shivering. You don't know if you're cold, in shock or something else. You grab at the plastic cup in front of you and slam it against your mouth.

Fuck it burns.

You drink it anyway, you need the scalding warmth.

A knock at the door sounds and you look up to see yet another sharp dressed man, this one with dark hair and a beard.

“Hello Officer Byrne,” he says genially and extends a hand to you, “Russo, Billy Russo. I'm here on behalf of Anvil Security.”

You blink, you've never heard of it but you still extend your hand out and you shake.

He sits down and begins to ask you the same questions all the others have. You're sure your voice is getting monotonous by now as you rattle off the words like you've practised them from a script.

Mr Russo seems to be a little distracted, his fingers playing with the small video camera he has set up until he eventually stops the tape.

“I think we'll end that there,” he says.

You look at him a little confused.

“This is off the books now. Just between you and me,” he leans in conspiratorially. “I knew Frank Castle. I served in the Marine Corps with him, I'd even say he was a close friend of mine during our tours. So I have to wonder, why exactly you're still alive. Frank never leaves anything to chance.”

You really don't know what to say now.

“I viewed the footage,” Mr Russo says quietly and your heart starts hammering. “Those idiots out there may not see it but I do. You talked with him didn't you?”

You stay silent.

“And your little amateur dramatics for the camera, bravo.” He starts clapping his hands mockingly at you.

You compose yourself and shrug, “What do you want me to say? That I was shit scared that a mass murderer was right in front of me? That I thought talking to him might be better than getting my neck snapped? You know what? It fucking worked. He let me go and I'm not going to apologise for having a survival instinct.”

Mr Russo looks like you've grown three heads before his face settles back into a pleasant expression. You don't trust this man, everything in your gut is screaming that this situation is dangerous. He smiles, shark like at you.

“What could you possibly say to Frank Castle that would make him let you go?”

“I played to his sense of honour,” you state. “Military men are all hardwired the same way, you play on the patriotism, on the code. I bet even you could be subject to that, Mr Russo.”

His eyes flash and your stomach tightens but you keep your face impassive.

He grunts, scanning you, taking in your whole form like he's cataloguing it. You stare him out, eyes daring him to challenge you. You've fucking had enough of this. Finally he sits back in his seat and packs away his camera before standing up.

“Thank you Officer Byrne. That was....enlightening.”

He dips his head and leaves the room.

You let the air whoosh out of your chest as the muscles you didn't know you had been tensing finally relax. You know this man is going to make more trouble for you down the line. He saw right through you and you were afraid of that.

You leave the station as quickly as you can.

 

**

 

The funeral for Davies takes a lot out of you. You give a few words about him, trying to keep yourself together, the eyes of his wife and two boys staring past you glassily towards the coffin.

Shit, Davies. I told you to be careful.

You stick around for the wake only as long as you have to. The noise is too much, the people are too much. You just want to be alone.

You're on bereavement leave and welfare leave for at least a month. Oh goody, time spent staring at the walls of your apartment. You're pissed about it but you know deep down that you need it.

Days go by and you don't go out. You have your own workout equipment and you hammer those before watching endless series of TV shows.

And in all that time you don't go back to the library.

 

**

 

You can't take it any more, the isolation is getting too much for you.

It's dark out, just gone nine p.m.

You're pulled by a sudden urge to drink, drink until you can pass out until the next day. You wanted to go somewhere aggressive, somewhere you could let loose. Your safe haven in the library was tainted. You didn't think you could ever go back. You needed something else.

You went to the mirror and your pale gaunt face stares back at you. Man you had some work to do. You felt better with the stroke of your make up brush as it swiped some colour back into your skin and ten minutes later you're even half impressed at your own transformation.

You pull on a low cut bodycon dress that hugs you just the way you like it and you raise an eyebrow at yourself in the mirror. You look good. Maybe you can attract a normal guy for once.

You settle on going to a heavy metal club. You felt like it was loud and angry enough for your current mood.

You pull on your long coat and start walking.

Once you get to the club, you let the heavy guitars and the drums wash over you. You feel it vibrate to your very core. This was a good decision.

You head to the bar and line yourself up a good sized triple of your favourite spirit, knocking it back and feeling the tension you've been carrying inside melt away.

“Hey there, pretty lady, never seen you here before,” a male voice sounds next to you. You look to your right and see a tall guy with smoothed back hair and a winning smile grinning at you. He doesn't really look like he belongs here but then again, neither do you. He offers you a cocktail glass with some sort of bright coloured liquid in it. You don't take it. You know better than to accept a drink from a stranger that you haven't seen poured.

He looks at you before he sees your wary glance at the glass and laughs softly, “Oh, sorry. It's not drugged, promise, watch.”

He downs the contents and shivers slightly with a dour expression, “God, I didn't realise how sweet these were.”

You laugh at his discomfort, “That's how they get women into alcohol, gotta make it taste like fruit or candy or some shit.”

“Not you though?”

You hold up your drink and wiggle it so the last dregs splash about.

“Ah you like the harder stuff huh? I know what to get for you,” he grins.

He leans across the bar and mutters something in the bartenders ear. You watch every step of the process until the bartender hands you both two glasses.

“You'll like this,” he chuckles before knocking it back.

You follow suit and feel the warmth of expensive whiskey with a hint of something else...Was that honey?

“Oh wow,” you say, the alcohol making you giggle slightly like an idiot. “That really is something.”

“Right?” the man says before extending his hand. “I'm Robert.”

You take his hand and shake it before telling him your name. He starts to slide a hand around your waist and you let him. You don't get any sense of creepiness vibes or ill intent.

You settle into almost a drinking contest as you both egg each other on, spurred on by the whiskey. Soon you can feel the familiar imbalance as your head tries to find equilibrium. You're not that far off being completely drunk.

“I really should stop,” you say, giggling. “I'm gonna fall down if I drink much more.”

“You could fall into my arms?” Robert grins.

Wow, did he really just use that line? That was fucking cheesy but in your drunken haze you find it pretty endearing.

His head comes down to yours, kissing you gently and you don't protest. It feels good. It feels nice. You can't taste the alcohol on him for some reason but that's not really something you dwell on as you let him deepen the kiss.

_But it's not him_

You wipe that intrusive thought from your mind. Your brain could go fuck itself right now. You would not think about Frank Castle tonight.

“Hey..uh...you wanna get out of here?” Robert asks, his voice dropping lower.

“Sure,” you smile. You're going to goddamn enjoy yourself.

He takes your hand and you're out of the club, walking down the streets. He's pretty handsy along the route but you're happy about that. You feel desirable and you really needed that tonight.

Without warning, Robert yanks you into a side alley and pins you against a wall behind the dumpsters, out of the view of the general street.

“Whatsamatta,” you slur, “Couldn't wait?”

All trace of his disarming grin is gone as he brings a hunting knife up to your throat.

Oh fuck. Was he going to....

“Where's Frank Castle, Officer Byrne?” the man growls.

Your brain speeds up hella fast as you shake the alcohol out, the tipsiness replaced with fear, “How do you know I'm a cop?”

“Answer the fucking question and I swear I'll make this quick,” he spits.

Russo. He's got to be something to do with Russo. You knew that guy was up to no good.

The serrated teeth of the knife start digging into your neck and you hiss as you feel a slight tear and a spill of warm liquid running down your neck.

“Tick tock, Officer. I'm not going to wait forever.”

“I told Russo everything,” you say earnestly, pleadingly.

Fuck you were in no state to put up much of a fight and he knew that. He made _sure_ of that.

A horrible grin comes over his features, “Smart girl. He said you were clever. So if you know what's good for you, you won't lie to me.”

“I wasn't lying,” you say through gritted teeth. “I told him the truth.”

“Wrong answer sweetheart,” Robert says with a sad little smile before grabbing you around the throat and squeezing hard.

You desperately try to struggle but you're too uncoordinated, too gripped by the drink to fully break free.

“Last chance,” the man purrs, placing his face to your ear before licking up the side of your cheek with a groan. “Just tell me the truth. Would be a shame to kill someone as pretty as you. You were a good kisser.”

You gasp, hands trying to pull at his, “I'm not lying,” you croak out feebly.

“Shame,” he says matter of factly before his other hand comes around your neck also and the pressure makes your head spin.

You feel like your head is going to explode, the build up of blood is so painful.

 

_Just let go._

 

Your mind tells you to give up. To just let this happen. What the fuck was the point of carrying on? You'd lost your partner, gotten mixed up in some scary government shit and the only man you really wanted in your life right now was a fucking mass murderer. That wasn't much to hold on for.

Your arms fall limply by your side and you let your vision tunnel in.

 

_Just let go._

 

The blackness takes you as you drop to the floor.

 

**

 

You awake with a gasp, flailing madly. Was he still there? What the hell was going on?

Your eyes focus and you realise you're on a rooftop overlooking the city, your apartment block rooftop to be exact. Your gaze settles on a figure, sat on an upturned crate, watching you intently.

 

Frank.

 

His face was covered in blood, bruises yellowing across his skin but his eyes...his eyes held such life and intensity. He was mad, so fucking mad.

“Wha-” you start to croak but he stands up and towers over you so you have to crane your neck to look at him.

“You fuckin' stupid?” he growls.

You make to speak but you don't know what he's talking about.

“Answer me, girl,” he barks.

“Did you save me? Did you kill the guy?” you say, voice raspy as your throat tries to unconstrict.

He doesn't say anything but drops to his hackles and grabs you by the front of your coat, pulling your torso off of the floor.

“You fuckin' stupid, girl? You get piss drunk and take the first guy you see home? How you think that was gonna go?”

“Back off,” you hiss, trying to pull yourself to a sitting position.

“You wanna die that badly?” he asks, his face like stone. “You just wanna give up, huh? That girl I found in the alley, that ain't you. The girl I know was a warrior. She didn't take no shit. You....you ain't her. You ain't nothin'. ”

“Just leave me the fuck alone, Frank,” you say, you voice almost a whimper.

His jaw sets and without warning, he starts dragging you by your coat collar. Your feet skitter for purchase and you grab around wildly trying to find something to hold on to. He's pulling you towards the edge of the rooftop. Oh fuck.

“Let me go!” you cry.

He doesn't say a word. He just keeps dragging you, ignoring your squirming. You reach the edge and he lifts you up bodily and holds you out over the precipice.

“You wanna die so much, huh? Now's your chance.”

Your legs are dangling and you look down. Oh god that was a long drop. You were sixteen stories up.

“Frank!” you shout.

He fucking drops you and you scream as your stomach starts flip flopping. His hand snakes out at the last second and he grabs your wrist, foot placed on the lip of the roof for purchase as he holds you there. Your arm feels like it's wrenched from the socket and your knee slams into the brickwork, scuffing the skin.

“All you gotta do is let go. Let go, girl.”

You look up at him, he's glaring with an intensity you didn't think was possible. He was really serious about this.

“Pull me up!” you scream.

He doesn't move but you feel his grip lighten and your heart is practically in your throat.

NO!

You kick your legs up, finding purchase on a mounted air con unit and your other hand comes up to grab Frank's arm. You pull yourself up with a tremendous amount of effort until you're standing on the unit and you roll quickly back onto the safety of the roof. Your breathing is all over the place, you're practically hyperventilating and your legs feel like rubber.

Frank comes to stand over you and gives you a nod.

“Life, huh?”

You stand, your limbs almost giving out and he offers you a hand. You take it and he seems to let go of some of the anger he was carrying. He doesn't even see your fist until it slams into the left side of his face. He barely even staggers but just looks at you surprised until he bursts into deep laughter.

“There she is! Atta girl.”

“You fucking asshole!” you scream at him.

He just gives you a lopsided grin, “You wanna hit me, darlin'? It make you feel good? Well you hit me all you need to.”

You can't control yourself. Not even the rational part of your mind seems to clue you in that you seriously just punched The Punisher in the face and you were going to try and do a lot worse to him.

You practically launch yourself and kick at his knee which sends him to the ground. You tackle him, body weight sending him onto his back and you straddle him quickly, letting your fists fly into his face over and over and over. You vaguely register that you're roaring, roaring like a wounded lioness as you pummel him.

You lean back, energy spent as you try to contain the wracking sobs that are building in your chest.

He just laughs underneath you and turns to the side, spitting blood out of his mouth.

“Not bad,” he mutters.

“Shut up,” you hiss, hands shaking, your whole body shaking.

“You done?” he asks. “Got what you needed?”

“No, not even close,” you mutter.

Your rage is turning to something else, something hot and heavy that's sitting in your core. He catches your look and a crooked smile plays across his face.

“You're somethin', girl, you know that?”

He moves to flip you over but you refuse to budge and your hands come down on his shoulders, pinning him to the floor, although you're sure he's not putting up much of a fight.

“My way,” you growl and your hand moves to punch him again but he catches your fist, smirking.

“You wanna play rough, huh?” he purrs. “Well go on, girl, take it. Take what you need from me.”

You're practically animalistic, primal as you wrench his tactical belt off and yank his trousers down, followed by his boxers. He grabs your thighs, pulling you forward and you half fall onto his chest, your hands stopping you from falling completely.

“Take them off,” you growl in his ear and he knows exactly what to do as the lace of your underwear is ripped from your body and discarded onto the rooftop. He hikes your dress up around your hips and you position yourself over him.

He's hard already. Maybe he's getting off on this as much as you are.

You drop slowly onto him, taking him in inch by agonising inch. You let out a serious of little gasps. Frank gets impatient and grabs you by the waist, slamming you down completely on him.

“Fuck!” you hiss as you take a second to adjust.

You place your hands on his chest, over that goddamn skull and begin moving your hips, grinding on top of him.

He lets his head lull back, “Atta girl.”

You pick up the pace, slamming yourself down on him, feeling him tense under you. You drop to one hand and grab him by his shirt collar, yanking him up to you roughly into a sitting position and holding his head whilst you bite at his ear.

Well fuck he really liked that. You felt his cock twitch inside you.

You feel excited, knowing you could make his body react to you and you experimentally drop your head to his neck, letting your teeth graze over his throat as you grind down upon him.

That growl, it rumbles through his chest. You fucking love it.

“Didn't know you were such a nasty girl,” he groans.

“You've just never let me take the lead before” you whisper against him.

“Well fuck, if I'da known I woulda had you ride me weeks ago,” he groans, holding your thighs down so he can thrust up into you.

You're too lost in the sensation to try and take control back and you cling onto Frank's shoulders for dear life as he brutally slams into you before he suddenly stops.

You open your eyes, wondering what's wrong and see Frank staring intently at the side of your neck before his hand thumbs over the wound on your throat. It's been hidden by the mess that is your hair up til now but you guess being this up close he couldn't really miss it. You can feel his muscles stiffen as he examines it.

“Frank?” you ask in a low voice.

“Only one who should be leavin' a mark on you is me,” he says, in a quiet voice.

You're a little in shock. Was The Punisher really being possessive over you right now?

He looks into your eyes fiercely and you're held captive by it. His hand comes up to knot in your hair and he yanks your head back and closer towards him.

“Were you gonna fuck him?” he growls in your ear.

“Hadn't decided fully,” you say truthfully.

He harshly bites your neck and you cry out in half pleasure, half pain, clenching around him. He groans in turn at your tightness.

“You kissed him though.” It wasn't a question. That was a statement. You realise the implication behind that. Frank was in the bar. Had he been following you?

You look him square in the face and lift yourself up to drop back down as hard as you could and you hear him strangle his moan, “Yeah I kissed him.”

His hand leaves your hair and he wraps both his arms around your waist, pinning you in place, pushing you down as deep as he could. You spasm slightly as the sensation.

“That shit's intimate,” he hisses.

“More intimate than being buried in a girl?” you say breathily. “Fucking her every which way from Sunday in a library of all places? Not letting her wipe the cum from her body after you're done?

“Fuck I like you talking dirty,” he chuckles before ramming up into you as hard as he could. Your knuckles are practically white as you fight to stifle your cries.

“Frank, are you pissed that I kissed someone who wasn't you?” you ask him directly. You know this really wasn't the right time to ask it but you couldn't help yourself.

“You're goddamn right I'm pissed,” he snarls.

You bend down, trying to meet his lips to yours but he pulls away, reflexively. “Nuh uh, girl. That ain't how we are.”

“But you just said-” you begin but the press of his fingers on your sweet spot stops the words before you can form them and your eyes practically roll into your head.

“You ain't shown me you can be loyal. Those bruises were mine, that cum on your skin was mine. You ain't earned that right to kiss me, darlin'.”

“Fuck, Frank, I thought you'd left!” You grimace. “I told you to go. I was just a girl in a library that you fucked. You never said a fucking word to me. You never even goddamn faced me! ”

“I'm facing you now,” he grunts.

You're overcome. Frank was expecting you to go back to the library, you're sure of it and you were too scared. You'd hurt him. In his own weird way, he'd been building himself up to be more compassionate with you and you'd just ripped that out from under him. Square fucking one.

You move off of him and looks at you strangely, unreadable. You get back on your knees next to him and bend yourself over. He just stares for a second before pushing you over and onto your back. He crawls like a predator up your body and rests himself between your thighs, hands placed either side of your head.

“No,” he says before he sheathes into you, forcing a moan from your lips. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me what you done. You don't get away that easy.”

“Frank,” you whisper.

“Tell me, girl,” he growls.

Your breath is hitching in your throat as you fight to get the words out, the honest truth. “I kissed another guy and was taking him home because I thought it would help me get you out of my head but it didn't because all I could think was, it wasn't you.”

“Some fucking honesty at last,” he rumbles before dropping to his forearms, pushing his weight onto your chest and driving home.

God you thought he was brutal before but this is feral. You've never fucked him missionary style before but every stroke, every thrust just seems to hit home instantly and before you know it, you're wrapping your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper. He takes your wrists and pins them above your head, stopping you from touching him.

You feel the words tumble from your lips in between the moans, “Hurt me. I've fucking missed it. I wanna see the bruises again.”

He chuckles above you, “Yes Ma'am.”

You feel a sharp pain as he bites at the top of your breast so hard he draws blood. You arch back, your nerve endings raw.

He releases your wrists, “Don't you fuckin' move 'em.”

You nod and he tears your dress apart in one fluid motion leaving you totally exposed. His hands rake at your bare flesh as he continues to pummel into you. God, you were screaming. You were sure someone was going to come up the fire escape soon.

“You fuckin' make that noise for me girl,” he rumbles as he roughly drags your bra cups to the side and dips his head down, taking a nipple in his mouth and biting at it.

You try to move your hands but he just lifts his head up and hisses at you before roughly palming your clit with his fingers making you jerk and spasm, “Whadid I say?”

You'd completely lost the power struggle. Frank was taking what he needed from _you_ and you gladly let him.

“Move your head,” he barks and you comply, turning your head to the side.

His favourite spot. His teeth clench around the soft flesh of your neck, just slightly higher than the knife wound and it sends a bolt of shock down your body and your orgasm wells up inside you as the pain mixes with pleasure. He fucks you through it, through your clenching walls and still he won't let up on your neck. He's determined, determined to leave his mark again.

You clamp your thighs around him, the shockwaves of your climax still sparking through you as you try to gain some control.

He finally lets go, head rising and you see the fresh blood around his mouth, “Tell me what you are, girl.”

“Yours.”

He comes undone, half shouting, half groaning. He doesn't pull out of you in time and you feel his cock twitch as he spills inside you, the warmth flooding you.

“Fuck!” he cries, body stiff until he collapses onto his forearms, forehead resting against yours as you both try to recover.

“I didn't mean to-” he starts but you shush him quietly.

“I'll sort it out tomorrow. I'll head to the pharmacy.”

He just grunts in affirmation before whispering in your ear, “Not that I ain't been wanting to do that for a while.”

You laugh and he rolls off of you, panting.

“I'm sorry,” you say after a time. “I was stupid.”

“S'fine,” he mumbles. “I ain't very good with feelings n' shit since Maria.”

You feel a pang of sadness and pity for him but you bury it. He's not going to want your words of sympathy.

“I ain't never gonna be somethin' normal to you,” he continues. “Not gonna be an apple pie husband with a white picket fence house.”

“I never expected you to be,” you say.

“I'm gonna need time,” he mutters. 

“Can I at least make you something to eat or is that too normal?” you smirk, turning your face to him.

He flashes you a lopsided grin, “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up and offers you his hand, pulling you up from the ground.

“Erm...” you say, looking down at your half nakedness. “I can't walk down like this.”

Frank doesn't say anything but merely shrugs his trenchcoat off before offering it to you. You take it gratefully, wrapping it around yourself.

You both pad back to your apartment and he hands you your handbag that he's stashed away. Fuck, you'd forgotten about that. You pull the keys out and open the door.

“S'nice,” he says, looking around.

You take his trenchcoat off and excuse yourself to put some clothes on. A t-shirt and some sweats later and you come back into the main room to see him studying your book collection. You smile slightly and go to make him a sandwich.

“You like the green stuff or are you a salad dodger?” you ask him.

He turns to you, mouth quirked, “Green stuff, always.”

Soon enough, you've got a big sandwich wrapped up in tupperware for him. You know he won't stay very long. You hand it over.

“Thank you Ma'am,” he says appreciatively.

“You could use my actual name you know,” you say.

“Thank you, _Byrne_ ,” he says pointedly.

“Shit I'm never gonna have anyone use my first name,” you laugh.

“What's your favourite?” Frank's question interrupts your musings and you look at him dumbly. “The books.”

“Oh! This one,” you say, grabbing it from the shelf and placing it in his free hand.

“Can I borrow this?” he asks.

You're kinda touched by the gesture if you're being honest.

“Sure,” you smile.

“Thank you. I gotta be headin' back now,” he says, tucking the book into his coat pocket.

You nod and step backwards, allowing him to get to the door. He comes towards you, placing a hand under your chin and stroking it gently.

“I'll see you real soon.”

You smile, hands idly playing with the bite mark on your neck. He notices and the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“Remember this time,” he hums. “That mark is mine.”

“Guess you'll just have to come refresh my memory often,” you say, eyes glittering with mischief.

“Fuck, girl, don't talk that way right now. I gotta go.”

You laugh and he laughs too before giving you a chaste kiss on the top of the forehead and walking out the door.

It was a small gesture but the meaning behind it was potent.

 

He cared about you.

 

 

 


	4. Silence in the Precinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's doing his usual disappearing act but he still finds the oddest ways to get in contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another monster chapter...oops...I just somehow manage to keep going and going.  
> Apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes, I'm writing this whilst under full blown lurgy!
> 
> Thanks to you lovely readers and thank you for the lovely comments.
> 
> \- TLP x

It'd been a week since you'd last seen Frank.

The bruises on your body were healing nicely but you could still see the outline of his teeth on your neck every time you looked in the mirror. It made you smile.

You grabbed your coat and headed out.

You'd been back to the library every night since your little rooftop escapade. You felt you needed to show Frank you were thinking of him, even if he didn't come. You'd sit there on the bean bag, trying to immerse yourself in the new book you'd picked but secretly you were always scanning for him, hoping you'd hear those heavy boots again.

A day later you were sat in your apartment, listening to music on your laptop as you did Arnold Presses with your dumbbells, your biceps shaking with the exertion.

The music suddenly cut out.

You turned towards the laptop, frowning and set the weights down. The screen was just completely blue. Had it broken?

You try to get the Task Manager up but it's completely locked solid.

 

**Hello Byrne**

 

The words appear out of nowhere and your eyes widen in alarm.

“Shit,” you mutter. Was this Russo's work again?

 

**Don't be alarmed. My name is Micro. I'm with Frank**

 

“Frank?” you question.

 

**Yes, Frank. He says hi.**

 

“How are you...” you begin but trail off as you see the blinking light of your built in webcam flashing and you hurriedly slide the cover over it, blocking it off.

 

**Can you not do that? I need to see your reaction. Your microphone is shitty.**

 

“Well fuck you too,” you mutter. “No offence, but I have no idea who you are and I don't trust you one bit.”

There's nothing for a while and you feel like you're on edge, just waiting for something bad to happen.

 

**I can't believe I'm typing this. Frank says he hopes you still have his mark? ?!?!?!**

 

“Oh god,” you groan, embarrassed. It was Frank alright. “Yeah, ok.”

You slide the cover back off, exposing the camera, “What's up, is he alright?”

 

**He's fine. He just wanted you to know he's safe and wanted me to check you are too.**

 

“Yeah,” you say, a little stumped at how far he's gone to get this message to you. “Yeah I'm good. Is there some reason he couldn't just tell me in person?”

 

**He's got some stuff to do. He just didn't want you worrying. He says stay safe and be careful when you go back to the Precinct.**

 

“I will,” you say nodding.

The laptop switches back to your music player and you jump slightly as the beat kicks in again. The light on your webcam is now off.

You sit back a bit. Well that was a little surreal. He's got computer hackers giving messages now? You suppose it kinda made sense. He didn't seem the type to have a phone for you to call. Way too traceable.

You close the laptop completely, a little freaked out. Just what were you up to, Castle?

 

**  
  


It's your first day back since your bereavement leave and you feel strange putting on the uniform again. It doesn't feel quite right, like you're a fraud because of who you were running with. Can't exactly be the upholder of law and order when you're getting fucked by the most infamous vigilante out there.

You drag yourself to the precinct and everyone cheers when you walk in. That makes you feel a little better. Hell they even give you the pick of the donuts so you can get your favourite.

“Byrne,” your sergeant calls. “Mind coming in here?”

You excuse yourself from the small crowd and walk into his office.

“How you doing, kid?” he asks.

“Better,” you say truthfully. “As much as I was bored shitless, I needed that.”

He laughs genially and slides your issued gun and taser back across the desk to you, “Suit up, you've got a long day ahead and there's someone I want you to play nice with.”

He motions behind you and a broad man with short shaven hair comes into the room.

“Byrne, this is James Kirkman. He's just transferred from the Bronx precinct and he'll be your new partner. I'm giving you the Tallow case, true baptism of fire.”

“You don't pull any punches,” you joke and he just throws the file at you, grinning. You catch it and turn to the man who's standing with his hands behind his back like he's in school. “Come on, Captain Kirk, time to see Hell's Kitchen's finest.”

“Um, my name is Kirkman, not Kirk,” he says a little awkwardly.

Your sergeant snorts into his coffee, “Kids don't know shit about good TV these days.”

“Star Trek,” you fill him in, “James T. Kirk. James Kirkman. Ahh never mind, come on.”

You both walk out and get into the patrol car. Your new partner is kinda quiet. He only responds to your small chit chat with stilted answers. Honestly, you're really missing Davies and his stupid car games he used to play. You try and push that pang down deep into your chest.

You fall into an uncomfortable silence as you drive to the Tallow residence. You sit in the patrol car just outside on the street and thumb through the files. Shit, your sergeant wasn't kidding. Baptism of fire indeed. Domestic violence, imprisonment, rape, what a first day back....

“You been doing this long?” Kirkman pipes up out of nowhere.

You're a little startled but you answer, “Um, yeah a while. Kinda got straight out of college and into this. You?”

“Only about two years,” he says. “Used to be a security guard before that. Is it...is it true? All the shit they say about Hell's Kitchen? You got a devil and a punisher?”

“You don't even know the half of it,” you say, half sighing, half laughing.

“What do you think about it?” he probes. “The vigilantes.”

“What do _you_ think?” you ask. It's a pretty loaded question and one you always avoided in the station. It usually caused a lot of arguments.

“I think they need to be put down,” Kirkman says grimly. “They're making a shit show of the police. New York is the most lawless I've ever seen it.”

You swallow thickly. You're kinda offended on Frank's behalf. He's only ever gone after criminals and he's taken out all the warring gangs in the neighbourhood. It made your life a hell of a lot easier.

“How do you keep doing it? The job, I mean?” he asks, turning to you and staring at you intently.

You wave the file in his face, “One case at a time.”

The next few hours are filled with custody paperwork, witness statements and dancing around the forensics team as they sweep the hidden basement for evidence. This guy was a sick fuck. You pull a repulsed face as you see the shackles on the wall and smell the scent of piss and shit everywhere, mixed with the copper tang of blood. God it always surprised you how fucked up people could be.

Kirkman's in the corner, quietly taking it in and writing stuff down in his notepad. He looks a little green.

“You ok?” you ask him.

“Worst I've ever seen was some guy with his head blown off. This is just....the smell...”

You toss him a packet of chewing gum you had on you, “It helps.”

“Thanks,” he says and gives you a smile.

Well finally. This guy was hard work to warm up to.

You get back to the precinct and clock out for the day but your curiousity about something keeps pulling you before you can leave the station.

You head to the Cyber Crime unit and search through the gadgets on the shelf until you find the one you need. The IP tracer. If that hacker really was with Frank, you want to know where he is. Just in case. For your own peace of mind.

You head home and set it up, hooked into your laptop and go about your night as normal.

You're halfway through baking because god you need something sweet right now and you hear a ping.

Show time.

The screen has gone blue and you see words flashing.

 

**Byrne, it's Micro**

 

You set the tracker to work and it whirs as the process starts.

 

**Got something important to pass along.**

 

“Got it,” you say for the benefit of the microphone.

The tracker is honing in. It's almost narrowed it down to an area.

 

**

 

A warning flashes across Micro's computer.

“Shit!” he cries.

“Whatsamatta?” Frank asks.

“She's trying to reverse trace my VPN.”

“She's tryna hack you?”

“Where the fuck did you find this girl, Frank?! I'm gonna have to scramble the IP through different proxies.”

Frank chuckles and rubs his jaw, “You're saying she's gonna hack the so called Master Hacker?”

“Shut up, Frank,” Micro hisses, frantically tapping on the keyboard. “If she opens that link up, if she finds where this message is coming from she's gonna alert anyone who's looking for us.”

“So stop her,” Frank says matter of factly.

“I'm gonna have to fry her laptop.”

 

**

 

**Stop it.**

 

The words flashing angrily on the screen. He's worked out exactly what you're doing.

“Give me a reason not to,” you say bluntly.

The screen changes. You're looking at a man in a bathrobe with wild curly hair in a dimly lit grungy room.

“Could you just turn that thing off?” he says, eyes wide with panic as his voice comes shrilly through your speakers.

You see him. Arms folded and mouth cocked in amusement in the background. Frank.

“Fine,” you say, disconnecting the tracker.

The man known as Micro visibly relaxes.

“Fuck, Frank,” he sighs, hand rubbing his temple furiously. “Could you not have picked a dumb Hooter's waitress to bang rather than a cop?”

Frank just shrugs.

“I'm right here you know,” you say sharply.

“Yeah and you almost got us discovered, Officer Byrne,” he says, venomously.

“Oh I'm so sorry that a hacker of your calibre was almost taken down by basic police equipment,” you fire back.

You see Micro huff loudly, trying to restrain himself.

“At least a Hooter's waitress would've been nice to talk to,” he spits.

“Hey, no fucking offence taken,” you growl. “You're one to talk, Micro. I mean what kind of fucking name is that? A description of your johnson?”

Frank bursts into laughter and you see him on the screen creasing up as Micro practically yanks his hair in frustration.

“Shit, Lieberman, she got you good,” Frank laughs.

“You talk to her Frank because I swear to god I'm gonna hit this screen soon,” he stands up and you register he's not wearing any pants. Way to be a stereotypical nerd, Micro.

Frank comes up to the screen and looks into the camera, “You doin' ok, girl?”

“I'm good,” you smile. “Shitty new partner but nothing too bad.”

He grunts, “Meet me in our usual spot around 2 a.m. Will you be there?”

“Damn straight I will,” you say and he chuckles. “See you soon, Frank.”

Frank moves away and Micro gives you a final glare before shutting off your laptop completely. Guess he was pretty pissed about that insult.

You manage to save your cupcakes before they start burning too much and set some aside into a little storage box. You were gonna take some with you.

2 a.m rolls around and you're standing in the seating area of the library. You hear a short clank and see Frank is up on the balcony, motioning for you to come up.

Once in the lecture room, you barely make it through the door before he's pinning you against it, slamming it shut with your body weight and his.

“We got some catchin' up to do,” he rumbles.

“I was hoping you'd say that,” you smirk, eyebrow raised.

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him as he carries you to the lectern. This time he doesn't bend you over it, he sits you on top of it, yanking your jeans down before he lets out a short whistle as he sees the top of your hidden stockings underneath.

“Shit, girl,” he mutters. “Them for me?”

“Thought you might like them,” you say.

He leans in close to your ear, “I'm gonna enjoy ripping holes in 'em.”

Your breath hitches and he grabs your thighs harshly, kneading them. You move to take your sweater off but he just pulls it back down.

“Keep it on. I like it this way,” he says.

He drops to his knees and uses his teeth to drag your underwear down. Oh wow, this was new. As soon as the lace hits the floor he's mouthing his way up your leg, tearing slightly at the nylon so he can get to your bare flesh. He pauses mid thigh at the point where your stocking top gives way to your skin and bites gently, knowing the spot is sensitive. You shiver, letting your head fall back and a small moan escape from your lips.

“Maybe I'll bite just a lil' bit higher,” he growls against you and you feel the heat pooling in between your legs.

He takes his lips two inches higher, almost at the curve of your pelvis before another sharp pain runs through you and you feel his hot breath ghost against your aching sex.

He leans back and you instantly feel the yearning pulling at you. You want his touch back, you want his mouth on you again. Frank just admires the purpling circle on your skin.

“Mmm, you bruise like a peach, ya know that?”

“I thought that's what you liked about me?” you say teasingly. “Easier to stake a claim that way.”

He laughs before unlatching his belt buckle and letting his heavy trousers drop to the floor, “Gotta better way to do that. Spread 'em, girl.”

You happily obey and his hand comes around your waist, pulling you towards the edge of the lectern before he lines up with your entrance and slams deep into you. Your hands come up to grip his biceps and damn did you like squeezing those. You could feel the muscles work as he starts thrusting.

“Look at me,” he says gruffly and your gaze goes to his face, intense and focused. He takes your right leg and lifts it up high, hooking it over his shoulder. “I wanna see your face when I do this.”

He pulls out, leaving just the barest tip before driving hard back into you. With your leg cocked up, you've got no cushioning and you feel his pelvis bruising yours with the force of the thrust.

“Fuck!” you cry, shuddering.

“You're somethin',” he laughs.

You barely hear him, you're too lost in the sensation as he buries himself within you over and over again. Your fingers rake at his arms as you urge him on.

“Say my name, darlin',” he growls against your neck, bending himself to lie completely flush against you as he hammers into you.

“Frank,” you moan and you hear his breathy chuckle.

“Atta girl.”

He removes one hand from around your body and dips it down in between you, searching, seeking. You buck against him as he presses onto your clit and moves his fingers with practised precision.

God he was good at that. He never lost a beat, keeping a steady and harsh rhythm and you started to feel the beginnings of the wave building. You pull Frank close to you and you can't help but bite against his flesh of his collarbone as your orgasm hits you and you fight to keep yourself quiet. He grunts against you and pushes you back, your leg falling off his shoulder.

“Fuck girl, you keep doin' that I'm gonna cum in you again. I ain't got the self control for that.”

You giggle which makes you clench around him and he growls aggressively, keeping himself still, not daring to move.

“Guess I've marked you now,” you say, a lazily smile on your face.

He looks down and sees the ragged mark you've left, “Like I needed another one a' those.”

“But I'm guessing you enjoyed that one,” you smirk.

“Oh darlin', you have no idea,” he sighs, still trying to keep himself steady, focused, pulling himself back from the edge.

You push him back and out of you and he stares at you, questioningly. You drop to your knees in front of him and look up, waiting for permission. There are some roads as yet unexplored with Frank Castle and you don't want to push his boundaries. He'll tell you when he's ready.

He looks down at you, a little torn but you don't move an inch. You just sit there on your knees patiently.

“It's ok,” you say. “You don't have to say yes to this. It's up to you.”

Neither of you have ever used your mouths on the other. You figure that was pretty intimate to him, more intimate than straight sex. You're very surprised when his hand comes into your hair and he pulls you forward.

You fully intend to not waste the opportunity. You let your tongue lap a long line on the underside of his cock and he grunts above you. You make sure he's holding eye contact with you before you take his tip into your lips and let your mouth slide all the way down.

“Jesus...fuck....” he growls.

You don't stop until he hits the back of your throat and you push on even then.

“Oh fuck, girl,” he shudders as your throat constricts around him, with you trying to control your gag reflex.

You pull back and start hollowing your cheeks, bobbing up and down. His hand grips your hair with iron force before he yanks you back and a line of spit trickles from your mouth as you lose your purchase.

He seems to be looking to _you_ for permission now, the silent question hanging there.

“Take what you need,” you say, echoing his words.

“Yes, fucking, Ma'am,” he rumbles and you open your mouth again as he thrusts his cock in, pumping hard as you lap at him with every stroke.

You feel him stiffen and he pushes against you hard as he cums into your mouth. He practically roars your name until he finally staggers back, his limbs temporarily weak and he leans against the lectern to steady himself.

You swallow before standing back up and gathering your underwear and jeans to redress.

“Christ,” he pants. “I'd almost forgotten how that felt.”

“I hope I was a good reminder,” you chuckle.

“Sure were, darlin'. Look at me, I'm shivering like a teenager,” he laughs. “Shit.”

You smile, trying to smooth your hair down so it wasn't so obvious what you'd just been doing. He stands up and tucks himself back in before taking your hand and walking you to the row of desks, sitting down on one. You sit next to him.

“This is not just a catch up is it?” you say, studying his expression. He suddenly seems to have gone very serious, all trace of lust or mirth completely gone.

“Wish it were, but naw,” Frank mutters. “It's Micro. He needs you ta do something for us.”

“Get a pair of fake tits and an owl t-shirt?” you joke.

He snorts, “Naw, I like your chest as is. This thing that he wants. It's dangerous. I didn't want him to ask it of you.”

Your gut starts churning. You don't like the sound of this.

Frank huffs loudly, “Gotta reason ta suspect one a' ya cops is dirty, feedin' information to a guy named Billy Russo.”

“Russo,” you whisper.

Frank quickly turns to you, “You know him?”

“He interrogated me after our little display in the alley. Turned the interview camera off and called me out on the footage saying I was faking it. The guy...the guy from the club that you...uh...you know...he was with Russo too. He wanted to know where you were.”

“Shit!” Frank hisses. “Why didn't ya tell me?”

“To be honest, kinda slipped my mind in between dangling over Hell's Kitchen and fucking on a rooftop,” you say with a shrug. “I didn't think it was that much of a thorn in your side.”

“He's a big fuckin' thorn,” Frank growls before turning to you and taking your face in his huge hands. “I need you ta think for me. Is there anyone who's been actin' strange since it got out I'm alive? Anyone new?”

Your mind goes directly to one person.

“My new partner. He asked me what I thought of vigilantes after barely saying anything to me all morning. Said he transferred from the Bronx but he practically almost puked his guts over a crime scene that wasn't even that bad. I thought that was a bit off for a so called seasoned cop. I would've expected that from a rookie.”

“His name,” Frank says, eyes searching yours.

“Said it was James Kirkman.”

Frank sighs heavily and strokes his thumbs over your cheekbones, “I really don't wanna ask this a' you but I need you to bug the station computers.”

“Can't Micro just hack it?” you ask.

“He woulda done but there's new encryption now.”

“Encryption? You mean, whoever is Russo's mole has bumped up the security on the network?”

“Yeah. Lieberman asked me to give this to you,” Frank goes into his coat pocket and draws out a small CD. “It installs a...what did he call it....keylogger?”

“Ah yeah, tracks everything you type on a computer,” you muse.

“Right, right. He asked if you could install it on a precinct computer and he'll do the rest from there.”

“I could lose my job if I get caught. I could be arrested,” you whisper.

Frank looks pained, “I know, darlin', I know. I'd understand if ya said no.”

You look at the tiny CD for a time before you eventually take it.

“Alright. I'll do it, but only because Russo tried to have me killed and I'm taking that shit personally.”

Frank smiles warmly and kisses the top of your head, “Thank you.”

“I have something for you too,” you say, standing up and walking to your bag.

“You want me to do some illegal shit too?” he asks, eyes wide.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow, “Did you seriously just ask a cop that?”

He gives you a lopsided grin and you fish out the box of cupcakes before taking it to him and handing it over.

“I made extra,” you say. “You can even give some to Micro. Might make him less of a prick.”

Frank opens the lid and breathes the aroma in deeply, “Mmm, smells good. Not sure these are gonna survive long enough for Lieberman to get one.”

You laugh and you gather up your things to leave. Frank walks you to the front door but he doesn't just wave or start walking alongside you, he pulls you into a deep bear hug.

“Be careful, alright?” he says quietly. “Anything goes sideways, you get the fuck outta there straight away, ya hear?”

“I got it,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He pulls back and he looks like he wants to say something but he buries it and settles simply on saying, “Good night, Byrne.”

“Night, Frank,” you smile.

You start walking home, chest filled with a rush of warmth. Frank had opened up to you tonight more than he ever had.

Lost in your inner musings, you don't ever hear the click of a camera shutter as it tracks you walking away from Frank.

 

**

 

Afternoon shift. Man these ones always make you feel like shit. Too late in the morning to do anything, too early in the night to have a social life.

You've been trying the whole day to shake your partner so you can install the disk but he sticks to you like glue, hovering over you, always wanting to know what you're doing.

“Is that something for the Tallow Case?” he asks, head over your shoulder as you type up the witness statement.

“Uh yeah, sorry, do you mind backing up a bit Kirkman?”

“Oh,” he says, shuffling backwards. “Sorry.”

“It's ok,” you say, faking a smile. “I just get a bit antsy about people being behind me.”

“Is that something to do with the time you met Frank Castle?” he asks.

Your stomach drops. Kirkman was definitely probing here.

“Yeah,” you lie. “It shit me up pretty bad if I'm honest.”

“I can imagine,” Kirkman says. “Must have been scary knowing you were facing a psychopath killer.”

“I...uh...I don't wanna talk about it if that's ok?” you say, quick to change the subject.

“Ah yeah, I'm sorry, your partner right?” he says, but you can detect no remorse in his voice.

“Yeah,” you say flatly.

“Kirkman?” your sergeant calls. “Can you come in here a sec?”

“Sure,” he responds and goes into the office.

You wait until the door is closed and quickly open the disk tray, practically jamming the CD into it.

 

**Uploading 0%**

 

Oh goddamnit. Micro was dramatic.

You keep your eyes trained on the office door, watching the two men speaking to each other.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter.

 

**Uploading 30%**

 

Your sergeant claps Kirkman on the shoulder and Kirkman turns towards the door.

Shit.

 

**Uploading 60%**

 

The office door opens and he's walking back to you.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

 

**Uploading 80%**

 

You're not gonna make it in time. He's almost at the desk now.

“Yo, Kirkman!” One of your colleagues shouts.

“Yeah?” he replies, stopping to turn around.

 

**Uploading 90%**

 

“Settle an argument, would ya? Cinnabons or bear claws?”

 

**Upload complete**

 

As quietly as you can, you take the CD out and stash it hurriedly into your bra, the only place you can think of at such short notice and give a silent thanks to whatever force just saved your ass.

“Bear claw,” Kirkman replies as he comes back round to stand behind you again.

You have to act normal, “Nah, come on Cinnabons are the best!”

“See, Byrne gets it!” your colleague laughs.

Phew.

The end of the day can't come soon enough and you change into civilian clothes in the precinct before heading out.

Jesus that was intense. You cut it real close to the wire. You thought for a second you were going to get caught.

Well if you had any doubts about who Russo's mole was, they were pretty much confirmed now. Kirkman's questioning was too focused on Frank and vigilantes. It's all he ever wanted to talk about with you and he watched you like a hawk.

Fuck you, Kirkman. I hope Micro spoils your shitty plan.

You get to your apartment block and groan as you see the Out of Order sign on the elevator. Ah shit.

You start to walk up the stairs, landing by landing, your legs burning with the constant ascension. Who needs a Stepper at the gym right? Just live in fucking Hell's Kitchen.

You reach your floor and you freeze as you spot a dark figure in the dimly lit hallway, two doors away from your apartment.

“Stay there,” the figure says.

Absolutely fucking not. You grab your concealed gun and point it at him.

“Police, identify yourself,” you bark.

“Oh great,” the figure says, sighing. “Just what I need. Listen, you gotta trust me, just stay there.”

“Why should I trust you when you're hiding in the shadows?” you ask, not lowering your gun.

The figure steps forward and you see a tight red suit, broad shoulders and a mask. _That_ mask. The one with horns.

 

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

 

“It's you,” you say, surprised.

“I don't have time to explain. Some men, I caught them hurting your neighbours. There's six more of them three floors down and they're talking about your apartment number. Does that mean anything to you?”

“You can hear a conversation three floors down?” you ask bewildered.

“Not the point,” Daredevil says hurriedly.

“Shit, yeah, I think they're here for me.”

“Why?” he asks, head cocked to the side as if half listening to you and half listening to something else.

“I don't know,” you say.

He comes up to you and seems to breath in the scent of you, moving around to find the space that you occupy.

“Castle,” he mutters.

“What?” you ask.

“You smell like Frank Castle. His scent is all over you, it's like...” he inhales slightly and then backs away, surprised. “Oh, you're lovers. He has some ironic taste.”

“How the fuck could you possibly know that?” you hiss, a little frightened.

“There's no time. I get it now, they're trying to take you out to get to Frank. You need to come with me.”

He takes you by the hand but you wrench it away.

“I'm not going anywhere with you, I don't know who you are.”

“I'm not here to hurt you,” Daredevil says softly. “I promise.”

You look at him, trying to sense if he's genuine or not.

“I know you're wondering whether you should trust me. I know Frank.”

“That's what the other guy said too,” you say.

“You feel like you're in danger at any point, feel free to shoot me,” he says, smiling. Wow he had a bright smile.

“I can't go just yet,” you say earnestly. “I need to get my laptop, it's important.”

You start walking to your door and Daredevil runs after you, grabbing your arm, “They're coming, we need to go.”

“It's important,” you growl, twisting out of his grip.

You place your hand on the door and put the key in the lock.

“No!” Daredevil shouts. “Wait!”

You don't hear the slow tick or the spark that flares as you turn the key, the electricity shooting up the wires.

Daredevil rams into you, launching you out of the way as your apartment explodes, sending a fireball into the hallway. You're thrown into the wall by the pressure and your head slams against the cheap wood, knocking you clean out as the fire alarms blare all around you....

 

 


	5. Silence with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you remember is the explosion....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter this time!
> 
> No smut but pretty angst heavy.
> 
> (Sorry if there's any spelling/grammar errors. I feel like my eyes are going square trying to re-read through!)
> 
> \- TLP x

Micro idly flicked through the cameras of his house checking on his wife, watching her with a sad smile as she went about her day. It pained him every time he saw her on the screen, unable to touch her, unable to let her know he was safe. He couldn't look any more today. It was getting to him more than usual.

_Suppose I'd better check in on her too_ , he thought.

He tapped on the keyboard, pulling up your feed from the hidden camera Frank had placed in your bookshelf. He frowned. It was disconnected and appeared to have been for some time. Had you found it? He wouldn't put it past you to have dismantled the damn thing out of spite if you had. Sure you'd helped him hack the Hell's Kitchen Precinct but he was still smarting over the reverse IP attack. You were still on his shitlist and he was sure he was on yours too. No love lost there.

He wound the footage back to a few seconds before the camera cut out. Huh, seems normal. You didn't seem like you'd found it. He wound it back further and his fingers froze as he saw men in dark clothing with balaclavas messing with your door.

Shit.

He leaned in close to the screen, trying to make out what it was they were doing.

“FRANK?!” he shouted as realisation hit.

Frank grunted from the other side of the room as he read your favourite book, turning the page oh so carefully as to not crease it.

“Frank get here now! It's Byrne!”

It always surprised Micro how quickly Frank could move. One second he was splayed out on the chair, the next he was right behind him, knuckles white with anticipation.

“What's goin' on, Lieberman? She ok?” he asked quietly.

“I just went to check in on her and the feed was disconnected. I wound it back and look...”

Micro played the footage of the men in your apartment.

“What tha fuck are they doin'?” Frank growled.

“It's a bomb, Frank,” Micro said in an urgent voice. “They planted a bomb in her apartment.”

Frank looked pained as he scanned Micro's face, “It's disconnected...does that mean...”

“It detonated,” Micro whispered.

Frank hung his head, body tense and breath lodged in his chest before he looked back up at the screen and said in a low restrained voice, “You get on the wire, you found out if...if she's...”

“I'm on it,” Micro said, turning back to the computer and pulling up the 911 emergency line logs and scanning through them. He found the entry and pulled that up, reading the chatter. He stole a glance at Frank who was just staring intently at the floor. He looked back and saw it...

 

**Body discovered. Female. ID unconfirmed.**

 

Frank must have sensed the change in Micro's breathing because he looked up and read those exact words for himself. With a roar, he grabbed the second monitor and flung it against the broken frame of the structure that encased Micro's equipment. He didn't stop roaring as he threw the spare chair so hard into the wall it cracked the plaster. With a final cry he dropped to the floor, his legs giving out as the emotion finally overwhelmed him and he sat with his head cradled in his hands.

“Frank,” Micro said gently, “I'm so sorry.”

“Shut up,” Frank growled. “Just fuckin' shut up, Lieberman. Why didn't you catch this huh?! Why didn't you see those shitbags wiring up her place?!”

“I'm sorry,” Micro whispered. He felt like such a piece of shit. He'd been too busy watching his own family doing mundane tasks. This was his fault.

Frank sprang to his feet and rushed the startled man, grabbing him by the front of his bathrobe and pulling his fist back, “Sorry ain't gonna fuckin' bring her back!” He punched Micro in the face, busting his nose open and blood trickled down his chin. “Sorry ain't gonna do shit!” He punched him again. Micro didn't put up a fight, he just let Frank do his thing. Eventually Frank let go, his energy spent and he sat down on the floor, propping his bloodied hands on his knees.

Micro wiped his nose with his sleeve and turned back to close down the police log. They both didn't need to see that taunting them. He was just about to hit escape when he noticed a new line on there.

 

**Body appears to be elderly female. Not believed to be Officer 26583 Byrne. Will send obs out to patrols to trace her whereabouts and perform a welfare check.**

 

“Wait!” Micro called. “Frank, look!”

“Enough of your shit,” Frank said scathingly from his seated position.

“Would you fucking just look?!”

Frank looked at where Micro was pointing and strained to read the text on the screen. He got up and leaned in close.

“Oh fuck,” he murmured. “Christ she's still kickin'.”

“She's still out there, Frank,” Micro said, the burden lifting off of his heart.

“Find her,” Frank said urgently. “Find her before the cops do, Lieberman.”

 

**

 

Oh shit. Were you alive or dead? You experimentally tried to get up but the agonising pain shooting through you stopped you cold.

Definitely alive.

“Don't try to get up,” a male voice said. “You've got bruised ribs and a sprained wrist.”

“Who's there?” you call out, afraid. You're struggling to open your eyes.

“A friend,” comes the response.

You feel a warm wet cloth dabbing at your face and you flinch.

“Don't be scared,” the voice says. “I'm trying to patch you up.”

“What...what happened?” you murmur. “I remember going up to my apartment and then....”

Daredevil. You remember Daredevil standing outside, trying to warn you as you blithely charged towards your front door.

“Is that you?” you ask.

“Kinda a broad question,” the voice says, laughing softly.

“Daredevil right?”

You hear a slight grimace. “I didn't pick that name for myself but yeah.”

“You saved me, thank you.”

“Don't worry about it. I'm only sorry I couldn't help your neighbours in time.”

“The old lady in 1506?”

“She didn't make it,” comes the small reply. “I had to move her into your apartment after the bomb exploded so it'd throw the guys off who were after you.”

“She didn't deserve that,” you whisper. “She used to give me cookies when I was on early shift to pass around the station.”

A sigh. “You've really gotten yourself deep into the middle of all this haven't you?”

You finally manage to unglue your eyes and you open them, balking slightly as the light floods in. You're in an apartment, one that seems to have a particularly shitty view of a neon billboard. You're on a sofa, your ribs bound tightly in bandages and the same with your wrist. You see him leaning over you, still in that red suit and, if you're not imagining it, a look of concern behind that strange mask.

“I really know how to pick 'em,” you say, trying to laugh but fuck it hurts too much.

Daredevil smiles sadly, “You want a drink?”

“If you have any of the hard stuff I think I'd really appreciate that right now,” you say, clutching at your side.

“I can definitely manage that.”

 

**

 

“Ok,” Micro says. “I know she left the Precinct at 10 p.m. I can see her on the cameras. She walks down towards the apartment block and I can see her from the restaurant cam across the street. She goes in and then at 10:21 p.m the bomb goes off. She doesn't come back out the front way.”

“What about the back?” Frank says, scanning the footage.

“There aren't any CCTV cams around the back.”

“Shit,” Frank swears, running a hand over his head.

“But, I expanded the search to a one mile radius and...”

He clicks on the keyboard and a grainy picture from a convenience store parking lot flickers on screen.

“She's being carried away by someone, looks like they're wearing-” Micro starts.

“It's Red,” Frank sighs in relief. “Thank fuck. He ain't gonna harm her. Can you follow them? See where he goes?”

“Yeah, yeah sure, I'm working on it right now.”

 

**

 

You lie there on the sofa, finding it completely surreal that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen was pouring you some liqueur. You look around at the apartment more, your eyes falling on some papers strewn out on the coffee table. They look like legal documents.

“Hey, you got another name so I don't have to keep calling you Daredevil? I find it kinda goofy saying it out loud,” you ask, straining to sit yourself up a little more.

He laughs as he fills up a tumbler, “Sorry, can't give you anything else. Someone once called me Mike for a while. You could use that?”

“So you're not....Matthew or Matt?” you ask, leaning over to look at the affidavit on the table.

You catch it. The slight flinch, the slight tensing of his shoulders, the momentary expression of panic before he settles his face into that charming smile once more.

“Matt is a friend of mine. He lets me use this place to rest up sometimes. I've helped him out on a few of his legal cases,” Daredevil says matter of factly.

“You know,” you start, pulling yourself up to sit. Oh fucking hell, that was a bad idea. Your side cramps and you knead your hand into the flesh to stop the muscles contracting. “I've done interrogation for years. I know when someone is lying to me. You're pretty terrible at hiding your body language.”

He sets the bottle of alcohol down with a firm thud, his hand gripping it like he intends to shatter the glass.

“Don't worry,” you say, teeth gritted. “I'm not going to run to the nearest newspaper.”

He still says nothing.

“I've got kind of a vested interest in keeping vigilantes away from law enforcement,” you chuckle.

You hear a slight snicker and he comes back to stand next to you, bending down to sit on the floor and placing the glass into your hands so you don't have to sit up any further or stretch out. You both click the tumbler's together.

“So you know my name now, what about yours?” he says, pointedly.

“Byrne,” you say before taking a large gulp. Damn that really smarted. This was some high grade booze.

“Good to meet you, Byrne,” he says, taking a sip himself.

“Likewise.” You hesitate on using his name again, trying to set him at ease. Well to be fair, it was his fault for not cleaning up his day job paperwork. Pretty rookie mistake for a so called hero.

You feel the laugh bubbling in your chest but just the action of that is enough to rattle your already injured ribcage and you let a few choice cuss words slip out of your mouth.

“Hey hey, I told you to take it easy,” Matt says, pushing you back down before he stops, listening to you intently. “You've opened up one of the stitches.”

“Stitches? Where?” you ask, looking down at yourself. Oh. You'd completely missed the feel of a gauze pad taped to your back. Guess you didn't feel it when you were lying down.

“I'm gonna have to lift your shirt up and take a look at it,” he says, hands outstretched, waiting for permission. He seems almost shy.

“Ah don't worry, I've got no shame right now,” you say, smiling faintly. “Do what you have to do.”

 

**

 

Micro scanned furiously through the footage, following the progress of you and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

“Anything?” Frank calls out for the seventh time.

“Not yet. He's good. He tries to avoid the cameras where he can.”

“Yeah sounds like Red alright,” Frank grunted. “Doesn't make anythin' fuckin' easy for anyone.”

Micro sees you go into an apartment block, “There! Got it!”

Frank stands up immediately, hands twitching as Micro writes down the address and hands it to him.

“Go get her, tiger,” Micro laughs.

“Shut up, Lieberman,” Frank fires back before storming out.

 

**

 

You really wish you had anaesthetic. You feel every stroke of the needle as it stitches your skin back together and you try to bite your hand to stop yourself from openly weeping.

“I'm sorry, I'm almost done,” Matt said softly.

The final pull of the thread goes through you and he ties the end off, patting the wound with antiseptic. That makes you tense up heavily and a ripple of pain shoots through your body. You squirm, falling back into your lying position. Shit well that was the comfiest you were going to get right now with your body weight pressing on the wound. You couldn't stand to feel it throb any more.

“I should have pulled you away from going to the door,” he says quietly. “This wouldn't of happened if I'd been more aware.”

“No,” you say wearily. “Don't you do that. Don't you beat yourself up. I'm one of the most stubborn women you'll ever meet. You had no chance.”

He laughs warmly.

“Besides,” you continue, “I needed that laptop. It was my one connection to Frank.”

“How does a cop get mixed up with The Punisher, by the way?”

“It's a very long story,” you grin. “Let's just say I didn't know who he was the first time we met. He had some intense facial hair going on.”

Matt tenses up, head snapping to the door, “Someone's coming. Stay there.”

“Shit,” you breathe. You're in no condition to fight if Russo's men had found you.

You hear an intense hammering on the door like someone's trying to bust it in until you assume Daredevil opens it and you hear a slight ruckus.

“Where is she, Red?!” a gruff voice echoes throughout the apartment.

Frank.

“Calm down, she's alright. She's through here.”

You hear those familiar heavy footsteps practically stomping down the hallway and then he appears at the top of the stairs before quickly descending them. He stopped when he saw you, eyes popping out of his head with anger as he sees the state you're in. Oh wow, well you must look like complete shit covered in ash, blood and debris with your t-shirt yanked up over your chest.

“The fuck is this, Red?” he says, voice dangerously quiet.

Matt comes down the stairs, “What are you talking about?”

“Why's my girl half naked on your goddamn couch?”

“Are you serious right now?” Matt exclaims. “I was fixing her wounds.”

Frank's hand shoots out and grabs him around the throat, pushing him to the wall and holding him there in a vice grip, “What, you can't fuckin' heal her up without strippin' her? You wanna run with my girl, huh?”

“Frank,” you croak out and he turns his head in your direction. “Stop it. He was just trying to help. My back is fucked up pretty good and he needed to restitch me up.”

Frank lets go of Matt before storming over to you, not looking you in the eye, not even looking at your injuries before he places two hands underneath you and goes to pick you up.

You half scream with the effort as his hands press firmly into your new stitches, trying to get purchase.

“Frank! Don't move her!” Matt shouts, “You're hurting her!”

You see Frank's nervous tic as he licks the side of his mouth before finally looking into your eyes, “Am I? Am I hurtin' you?”

“Your hand,” you gasp out. “Straight on my cut.”

He draws his hands away quickly, “Shit, I'm sorry. Fuck.” He turns to Matt and scowls deeply. “You hafta lay her on this shitty couch, Red? You couldn't put her in the bed?”

“Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realise I had to put chivalry above urgent medical attention,” Matt fires back, arms crossing.

“Would you both put your dicks away?” you growl.

Matt snorts and Frank gives him a dirty look before turning back to you and stroking your hair.

“I don't want you lyin' on this thing,” he says earnestly. “Tell me where I can put my hands and I'll lift you up.”

“Here and here,” you say, pointing to your shoulders and just underneath your ass.

His hands slide back under you. “Ok, darlin', on the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

He hefts you up and you grimace heavily, choking back the moan of pain. He moves you carefully and gently towards the bedroom shouting over his shoulder, “You gonna help, Red?”

Matt comes in and moves the sheets so Frank can settle you in before Matt mutters, “I'll be outside,” and leaves, shutting the door.

“Yeah, yeah you do that,” Frank murmurs.

Frank tucks you in before coming to lie next to you on the bed. He takes your hand and strokes it gently.

“How you doin', girl?” he asks, concern etched on his face.

“Feel like shit,” you smile. “Just another day, right?”

He crooks one arm over you, turning to lie on his side and presses his face against the top of your head, “You fuckin' scared me, girl. I saw that line on the log. They said a body-”

“My neighbour,” you tell him. “Daredevil tried to throw the bombers off the scent.”

“Didn't work though,” Frank rumbles against you. “They know you're alive.”

“Which means Russo knows too,” you whisper.

Frank hangs onto you tightly and you ignore the dull pain it creates, “I ain't gonna let him get to ya, you hear?”

“Where am I gonna go?” you say in a small voice. “I've got no home, I can't go back to my job.”

“I'll find somewhere safe, I promise you.”

“God, this is all so fucked up,” you say sighing deeply. “My whole life is just...gone.”

You feel him tense against you and you imagine he's hiding a guilty look.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs. “I'm sorry I got ya dragged into this. You didn't deserve it. It was just supposed ta be some fun, I didn't mean for this to get so....involved, you know.”

“I know,” you whisper gently.

“I just couldn't fuckin' stop myself. I kept wantin' to see ya. Kept wantin' this thing to keep goin'. Look what I fuckin' did to your life. Jesus.”

“Frank, please,” you say pleadingly. “I'm guilty as much as you are of that.”

“Shit,” he breathes, hugging you close.

You groan as he presses on your bruised ribs and he pulls away sharply.

“You need ta get some rest,” he rumbles. “Get some sleep.”

“Will you stay?” you ask.

“Yeah I'll stay.”

He kicks off his boots and gets under the sheets with you, fingers lacing into yours and he kisses the top of your head for the longest time.

He watches as your eyes drift, the feeling of finally being safe giving way to exhaustion. Your breathing steadies and you close your eyes. You lay like that for a while, feeling completely at ease.

Frank must think you're asleep because he starts stroking the top of your hair gently. It feels nice. It feels kinda domestic which is rare between you two.

You feel the mattress bow under his weight as he props himself up on one elbow and leans over you. You keep quiet and still, pretending you're not awake. You don't want to startle him.

What he does takes you completely by surprise and you have to fight yourself not to respond, not to let him know you felt him.

 

Frank Castle kissed you.

 

It was brief, it was gentle, barely more than a flutter but he kissed you before lying back down and nuzzling his face into your hair.

You both slept until the sun came up.

 


	6. Silence in the Vehicle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to your first morning with Frank....and Matt Murdock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hey there guys!  
> Just dropping another monster chapter down.  
> Once again, if there's any spelling/grammar errors I apologise, still trying to get over this stupid cold!  
> Thanks to my regulars and hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Mild smut warning. Angst warning. Violence warning.
> 
> -TLP x

You awoke that morning with the unfamiliar sensation of being somewhere new. As you took in the bright light of the sunrise, you remembered exactly where you were.

Daredevil's apartment...no Matt's apartment. That still felt weird to think about.

You adjusted yourself and felt the heavy weight across your body. Right! Frank had slept next to you. This was the first time you'd done that together but then it wasn't really a conventional kind of thing you both had going on.

You look left and see him, sleeping soundly. Wow he looked different. You were used to the scowl, the deep furrowed lines of worry or the intensely furious face. Sometimes he gave you a smile and that looked totally different too. You felt like you were seeing the real Frank. The man he used to be. Even now, the bruises still yellow across his skin, he looked younger, looked more at peace.

You're struck by an overwhelming urge to kiss his forehead but you hold back. You know Frank has to come to you with these kind of things, to set those boundaries. Even though he'd kissed your lips last night, you weren't about to assume that sort of thing was ok.

You shift slightly as the dead weight of his arm starts to send your fingers numb and he instantly opens his eyes, looking for the danger.

“Hey,” you smile.

His eyes take in your face and his expression softens but it's mixed with guilt and anguish. Oh well, you knew peaceful Frank couldn't last.

“Hey girl, how you feelin'?” he croaks, trying to cast the cobwebs of sleep off of his body.

“Like I hit a wall,” you joke. “The bruising seems to have gone to a dull ache and I can barely feel the stitches so I'm going to say I feel a lot better than yesterday.”

Frank looks at you, knowing you're trying to downplay your injuries and sighs heavily, “Come on, girl, let's get you cleaned up.”

He gets out of bed and stretches his shoulders back. You try not to stare but he catches your look and just smirks, “You got a dirty mind, darlin'.”

“I think I'm allowed,” you say, sticking your tongue out.

“There's that attitude back. You must be feelin' better,” he chuckles.

He goes to the door and slides it open, gesturing for you to follow. You walk out and see Matt splayed out across the sofa, still in his red suit but the mask is discarded on the table.

“Oh,” you say surprised.

You would've expected the Devil of Hell's Kitchen to be a little more....tougher looking? Instead you see a crop of fluffy brown hair and a sweetly serene face. Wait! Was that the lawyer who took The Punisher case?!

“Huh?” Frank says and follows your gaze. “Oh, Red, yeah.”

“Isn't he, your lawyer?” you ask, bewildered. “The blind one?”

“Red's a special kinda breed. Can hear things we can't. Worked that out a while ago.”

“Still kicked your ass in the end, Castle,” Matt mutters, stirring on the couch.

“You keep thinkin' that Red,” Frank mutters. “Your bathroom. Does it have a shower or a bath?”

“Both,” Matt says, sitting up and turning his head in the direction of you both, those unfocused eyes, scanning nothing in particular.

“Alright, may I use them to get her cleaned up? She's still got debris n' shit all over her,” Frank asks.

“Sure, I'll get her some clean clothes too,” Matt nods, standing up.

“Much appreciated, Red,” Frank nods. “Come on, girl.”

He leads you into the bathroom and begins to pour the water for the bath, which is frankly quite big for an apartment of this size.

“Stay there, a sec,” he says before going back to the bedroom and stripping all the dirty sheets off and putting them in the washer.

“Hey,” you hear Matt call. “You don't have to-”

“Red, we're guests. I ain't gonna be a dick and leave you shit to clean up.”

And there it was again. A little flash of the pre-Punisher Frank. A Frank who didn't want to be a disrespectful host. A Frank who was used to military levels of cleanliness and routine.

He comes back and closes the door, locking it. He bends down and puts his hand in the filling tub, checking the temperature before turning back to you.

“Alright, it hurts and you tell me to stop,” he says quietly.

He motions for you to lift your arms and you do so but not without a slight grimace. He pulls your top over your head and throws it on the floor before you hear an audible grunt.

“Shit, does it look that bad?” you ask.

Frank takes a deep breath to steady himself but doesn't answer you. Instead, he checks all your cuts, all your stitches and ghosts his fingers over your bruises, looking for anything amiss. He unravels the bandage around your middle and you see his fist clench as the last wrap peels away from your skin.

“I'm gonna fuckin' kill Russo,” he growls.

“Not if I get to him first,” you say back, deadly serious.

“You think I'm gonna let you anywhere near that piece o' shit?” he says, firmly.

“I'd like to think you'd at least let me put the second bullet into him after you,” you say, groaning as he starts tugging your jeans down and your leg starts twinging.

“No, don't you do that. Don't you fuckin' do that,” Frank says, standing back up to take your face in his hands. “Don't you be like me.”

You place your own hands over his, “This guy has tried to kill me twice. Why wouldn't I want to-”

“No,” Frank growls again. “That ain't you. You're a cop, you help people.”

“It's not like I've never killed someone, Frank,” you say pointedly.

“Byrne, please.”

You stop. Hearing the plea in his voice.

“I need you to be that light for me. I need you to stop me if I go too far. I....I need it, ok?” He looks down at the floor, not daring to make eye contact.

You let your hands run up his arms and hold his own face, “I wanna do something right now. Do you trust me, Frank?”

“Yeah, yeah girl I do.”

You pull his head slightly down, giving him ample chance to push you away and kiss the top of his forehead briefly, almost chastely, “Ok. I can be that for you, only if you promise to get that son of a bitch for me.”

He smiles, sighing in relief, “Promise. Now get in the goddamn tub.”

He holds your hand as you step in, making sure you don't overbalance and you hiss as the warm water touches your skin.

“Hold up,” he grunts, still keeping you upright before stripping off entirely and climbing in behind you. He sits down and holds your hips as you lower your body weight slowly. You finally sit in the water and he pulls you back to lie against him. He pulls a washcloth from the side and starts delicately, methodically cleaning you. You let your eyelids flutter closed, just happy to feel the sensations. It was really relaxing.

“Still with me darlin'” you feel his deep voice rumbling against your back.

“Uh huh,” you breathe.

The washcloth comes over your breasts and you arch back slightly into the feeling.

“Hmm, you like that huh?” he says nipping at your earlobe.

“You know I do, that's why you did it,” you smirk.

“You caught me,” he says. He rolls up the cloth and places it over your eyes. “Let me take care o' ya, darlin'.”

You leant your full weight back against him, trusting him completely. He slips one hand down in between your legs and one stays on your breast, kneading softly. His fingers find your sweet spot, performing teasing circles and you let out a little breathy moan.

Music starts blaring from the main room and you burst out into laughter, feeling Frank chuckle behind you.

“Guess Red don't like your kind o' sound,” he says, biting at his favourite spot.

“Oh well,” you sigh.

You shiver, feeling the familiar tenderness on your neck until he starts kissing the area lightly and you feel yourself melt. You felt a stirring against your back and know he's enjoying it also. You try to reach one hand in between you, to help him out too but he swats your arm away.

“Nuh uh, this is about you,” he says, letting his hand travel from your breast to cup your jaw, pulling it backwards and hungrily kissing your neck.

Without sight, all you can feel is the sensation. Every stroke, every touch of his rough lips, every writhe of his body against yours feels magnified tenfold. All your aches and pains just fade into the background as he works your body, coaxing pleasure out of you. One finger dips into you without warning and pulls back just as quickly and you gasp from the loss of fullness.

“Tell me what you need, girl,” he says in a husky voice.

“More,” is all you can utter as you head lolls back against his shoulder.

He picks up his pace, alternating between fast strokes and dipping into you whilst his hand drops from your jaw and seeks out your stiffened nipples, barely touching them as he draws little circles. You can feel that familiar crest building and at once you're acutely embarrassed knowing that Matt can probably hear you.

“I don't think I can keep quiet,” you whisper in an urgent voice.

“You let me worry 'bout that. You just enjoy yourself darlin',” he mutters against your cheek.

He feels your body tense as your orgasm takes hold and he deftly takes your makeshift blindfold off and turns your head to his, swallowing your moans with his kiss. When he pulls back you look at him in surprise and he just smiles sadly, wrapping both his muscular forearms around you and pulling you onto his chest.

“I said I ain't so good with feelings,” he starts, placing his head against yours. “I hope that said what I needed it to say.”

“I understand, Frank,” you smile, still trying to ride out the small spasms in your core but feeling that glowing heaviness descend on your limbs. “I really do.”

“I still ain't completely ready to-”

You hold a finger against his lips shushing him, “I'm not rushing you. I'm just seeing where this goes as much as you are. You should know that by now.”

“I still keep thinkin' it's gonna disappear,” he says quietly.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you say soothingly. “Hell, even a bomb couldn't get rid of me.”

He snorts and ruffles your hair before pushing you forward and climbing out. He wraps a towel around his waist and comes to kneel at the side of the bath.

“Gotta wash your hair,” he says simply.

You nod and lean back, letting the water soak into your, probably, ash coated hair. He smooths the floating tendrils out, shaking the dust away before moving to get some shampoo. He lathers up and you sit up, letting him massage your head before he drops you back down and fluffs out the suds.

“You're gonna make me fall asleep if you keep doing that,” you say lazily.

“I ain't gonna mind,” he says, grabbing the conditioner next.

God you really could fall asleep now. An orgasm and a head massage? Frank Castle day spa open for business. You can't help but giggle slightly.

Finally he's done and he holds your hand to help you out of the tub before wrapping you in towels. He redresses in his own clothes before slinking out of the door. You hear the music stop and the two men talking casually before he returns with an oversize t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Red said he ain't got any bras,” Frank smirked.

“I'd be worried if he did,” you laugh and pull on the clothing, grateful to have something that doesn't smell like you've run through a bonfire. He bags your normal clothing up in a plastic carrier for you.

You come back out and Matt is dressed in casual gym gear, scanning some Braille papers before him, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Thank you,” you say. “For everything. It doesn't seem like quite a big enough gratitude but-”

He turns towards you and flashes you that charming smile, “It's fine, really. I'm glad you're ok.”

“Sorry to kinda take over your place,” you say, hand coming behind your head awkwardly, even though you know he won't see it.

“Well, I did owe Frank a favour for that rooftop assistance,” he says, shrugging.

“Alright, enough chit chat,” Frank says gruffly. “We gotta hit the road and get her to a safehouse. I'll see you around, Red.”

“See ya, Frank,” he replies.

You motion for Frank to go on ahead and he gives you a strange look but just shrugs and heads up the stairs.

“You're still here?” Matt asks.

“Yes,” you say, walking over to him and taking his hand before shaking it warmly. “Really, I can't thank you enough for saving my stubborn ass.”

He squeezes your hand gently, “If you ever need me, you know who I am now. Gimme a call, ok?”

“Sure thing, Matt,” you say smiling before walking up and meeting Frank at the door.

“You good?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, let's go,” you say.

You walk to Frank's car and he chucks the plastic carrier in the backseat before strapping himself in. You come round and climb into the passenger seat.

“So, where are we going?” you ask.

“Gotta take ya to Micro's place. It's off the grid,” he says, starting the car.

“Oh good, I get to insult him in real life,” you smirk.

“Naw, come on, girl,” Frank laughs. “You gotta play nice.”

“Depending on what choice of music is in that CD deck, I either will or won't,” you tease.

He gives you a mock reproach before flipping on the CD player and Earth, Wind and Fire starts blaring out. You turn to him, one eyebrow raised and he gives you the same look back, daring you to say something.

“Did you find this in a thrift store?” you joke.

“You know,” he says, throwing you a CD wallet case. “You must be real healed up because you're givin' me a ton of backchat.”

“I prefer to call it natural pep,” you laugh, before selecting a CD that you feel would be equally as cheesy but at least it was that kind of cheesy that you weren't ashamed about. You jam it in the CD player and Starship – We Built this City comes to life.

“Oh!” Frank chuckles. “You wanna give _me_ some shit about my music and then you play this?”

You ignore him and start singing along, not caring if it sounds goddamn awful. It was just a song to make you happy. You must have looked like such a spectacle because you get an honest to goodness belly laugh out of Frank before he starts joining in himself, croaking out the lyrics. He's actually not a bad singer. By the time the song ends both of you are smiling.

“Alright, I take it back. Good choice,” Frank smirks.

“Damn straight,” you giggle.

As you drive through the streets of Hell's Kitchen, you settle back into the seat. This almost feels normal, domestic even. Just two people out for a ride. Frank starts taking some back routes, pulling a baseball cap from the glovebox and pulling it down over his head. You look out at the street, catching a dark SUV in the wing mirror. Huh, kinda looks like a government car. You dismiss it and keep enjoying the drive. You get another cheeseball song on the CD, Kiss – God Gave Rock N' Roll To You and clap your hands excitedly.

“Hell yeah! You're gonna sing with me right?” you ask and Frank just chuckles.

“You sure are excitable, darlin'. It's sweet,” he says warmly.

You look back out of the window as you start to sing but notice the SUV again. You've gone down four back streets, across one warehouse lot and through a gas station. It should not be still behind you.

“Frank,” you say, deadly serious and he instantly grips the steering wheel tighter. “The car behind has not stopped following us for twenty minutes.”

“Shit,” Frank growls, thumping the car radio off and looking in the rear view mirror. “I fuckin' missed that.”

You look around the car and see that Frank has a dufflebag in the footwell of the backseat. You lean over and open it. Jackpot. Guns galore. You pull out a pistol, checking the magazine, flicking the safety off and cocking a round into the chamber.

“It ain't gonna come to that. Now you strapped in?” Frank asks.

“Yeah. Do what you gotta do,” you say resolutely.

Frank floors the accelerator and you get pressed back into your seat. The tyres squeal angrily as he flings the car around and shoots off down an alleyway. As you expected, the SUV follows. You look into the car behind and start to really take notice.

“Looks like four guys, all seem ex-military, possibly mercenary. I see Kalashnikovs. Russian connection but none of them look Eastern European. Probably misdirection which means they're more likely-,” you reel off.

“American. Which means Russo. Old Cold War trick. Bastard likes classic tactics,” Frank spits.

You enter into a storage unit, long forgotten and rusted and you chance a look backwards. Oh shit. One of the men was hanging out of the window and pointing the rifle straight at you.

“Fuck! Get down!” you cry and Frank ducks as the bullets spray overheard, punching the back windscreen out and shattering the front.

Frank slams on the brakes and drifts the car so his side is facing the oncoming SUV. He quickly turns to you, “You get out. You fuckin' run. I will find you, you got that?”

More bullets spray out, sending the driver's side window into little shards that rain down on you both.

“There's no time, Frank!” you cry and pop your head up briefly to aim and shoot through the new hole. Your bullet hits one of the guys in the eye as he's not fast enough to duck down. You drop into the footwell of the seat. “Load the fuck up!”

You grab across and yank the duffle bag in between you. Frank grabs an assault rifle, jamming a magazine into it and switching it to autofire.

“I'll give you coverin' fire. You high tail it behind that container. I will meet you there,” Frank growls.

“Promise me,” you hiss.

“I'll be there,” he says gruffly. “Now get your hand on the door. On three. One...two...three!”

He pops up, giving a burst of fire at the men who'd just started to get out of the SUV. They dive behind it but not before he catches one of them in the throat. You pull the handle and kick the door out, dropping to the ground and running full pelt towards the metal container before throwing yourself around it. You catch your breath and look back.

Frank is still in the car and you see the remaining two men pull something out of the boot. Oh fuck. That was a grenade launcher.

You completely disregard Frank's wishes and step out slightly, giving him some covering fire. God you wished you'd picked up another clip. One guy drops the launcher and pulls out a pistol before shooting back at you. You dash back around the corner, a bullet narrowly missing you. More gunfire as Frank lets forth another burst and you hear something clatter on the floor next to you. You see another magazine. Frank must have thrown it to you. You gratefully reload and step out again. Frank rolls out of car towards you and makes a dash for the container. He rounds the corner, pulling you back along with him.

“The fuck, you doin' girl?!” he hisses. “They almost got you!”

“And you almost got hit with a grenade launcher. You're fucking welcome,” you fire back.

“Shit, gotta take 'em out before they pop that thing off,” he growls and leaps out into plain view, shooting as he goes. You hear one guy cry out and drop to the floor.

That leaves one.

You peek around and see the guy making a full on charge at Frank, his gun spent. Frank just smirks in a way you'd never want to see again and throws his gun behind him, pulling a knife out of his belt. He ducks out of the way of the guy's fist, driving his knee up into his stomach. The man doubles over, trying to twist out of the way but Frank is too quick. The knife comes down four or five times in rapid succession straight into the guy's back. You hear the wheeze as a lung is punctured.

“That's what you fuckin' get for comin' after me and my girl. Was it worth it for Russo's dirty money, huh?” he says, grabbing a fistful of the guy's hair and pulling his head up to look him in the eye. The man just gives a throaty gargle, blood cresting in his mouth and spilling over his lips. Frank lets go and he crumples to the floor.

“Byrne?” he calls and you fully come out.

“Yeah?” you say.

“You good?”

“Think I need another head massage,” you say, eyes wide as you look at the dying man twitching before you.

Frank sighs and blocks your view, “I'm real sorry you had to see that.”

“I've seen shootings, I've seen fist fights....that was just....visceral,” you mutter, still not being able to tear your eyes away from the scene on the floor.

He comes up to you and lifts your chin up, forcing you to look at him, “Hey, hey. Stay with me, girl.” He looks at you, half afraid of your reaction and half still hyped up on adrenalin.

To be fair, you were in turmoil yourself. Your gut feeling was to be repulsed, shocked and a little terrified of Frank but you know he was just protecting you. Still, you couldn't quite shake that smirk out of your head. The smirk that said he enjoyed this.

“Byrne, please, say somethin' darlin',” he says worriedly.

You realise you've spaced out and you shake your head quickly to clear it.

“Do you get a kick out of it?” you ask in a low voice.

“Don't ask me that. You know you won't like the answer,” he says quietly.

“You said stop you when you go too far, right?” you ask and he nods. “That was too far. You could have just shot the guy but you went close quarters.”

He winces slightly but nods, “I know. I just got so angry they were firin' at you.”

“Happened all the time in my old day job,” you remind him.

“Yeah well, not no more,” he says gruffly. “Not on my watch.”

“I give as good as I get,” you say, gesturing to the guy in the van with a hole where his eye used to be. He follows your hand and looks to the man before looking back at you.

“Ok, I'll admit you're a pretty good shot.”

He's still holding your chin and seems reluctant to let go. His eyes search yours for the longest time before he pulls you into an embrace.

“I swear you're gonna drive me crazy, girl,” he murmurs against you. “I've nearly lost you three times now.”

“Frank,” you say, the pent up tension making your body shiver. “Just get me outta here.”

Your heart longs for those thirty minutes in the car when everything was happy smiles and cheesy songs but you know that's never going to be normalcy. This was Frank Castle's reality. This was now your reality.

“Alright, you stay here, I'm gonna find us a car,” he says, burying his face in your hair for a moment before wandering off.

You stand there, looking at the carnage around you. Surely someone had to have heard that? This place was abandoned but you're sure the sound of gunfire travels quite far. You look at the wreckage of the vehicle you came in and walk over, methodically wiping the dash and steering wheel of any prints before grabbing the CD wallet, plastic carrier and duffle bag. You keep a pistol out, ready in case of any further trouble.

It takes about ten minutes before Frank comes back and you climb into the new car. Neither of you speaks for a long time as you drive to the safehouse.

“Guessin' what I did has changed things 'tween us, huh?” Frank asks, the question obviously leading.

“No,” you say simply, letting your head roll back into the seat rest. “No change. We both killed. You went a bit too far and I told you that. Nothing more to discuss.”

He sighs, agitated, “I just-”

“Frank,” you say firmly. “It's fine.”

He doesn't look like he's going to leave it alone.

“Pull over,” you say.

He turns into an alley and parks the car, looking at you with a coiled mix of apprehension and readiness, as if he were expecting a fight. You unclip your seat belt and turn to him.

“Why do you care so much about it?” you ask directly.

“You told me once that I ain't the monster they say I am. I didn't want you to start seein' that now.”

“I swear to god, if you keep torturing yourself like this I'm gonna give you a round two of that beatdown on the rooftop,” you huff.

He looks surprised but when he sees your lips curl into a smile he relaxes a little, “Yes Ma'am, duly noted.”

You half clamber across the centre console and sit in his lap, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. Your hand comes up to clutch the front of his shirt and you let out an audible sigh. His arms come around you, squeezing you tightly as he lets his head rest on yours.

“I'm just glad to be alive,” you say quietly. “And I'm glad you're alive too.”

“Same, girl, same,” he rumbles.

You stay like that for a while, just content to hold each other. You pull away after a time and Frank's hand moves to your cheek, stroking it lightly. All of the fear, the anger, the wildness is gone from his eyes.

“May I?” he asks and you understand exactly what he means.

You nod and Frank dips his head down, giving you a small brief kiss. There's no passion behind it, no intent, it's just meant to display his feelings. After he pulls back, you press your forehead to his, feeling the warmth and contentment driving out the adrenalin.

“Come on,” you say. “Let's get going.”

“Sure darlin', but if you're gonna move, you owe me another one o' this later on,” he says, the familiar smirk creeping across his face. That's the smirk you're used to.

“Deal,” you laugh, climbing back into your seat.

You reach the safehouse with no further incidents and you start pulling into an underground parking lot.

Wow. Nice décor....

Definitely the same grungy room that was on Micro's webcam. Speak of the devil. He pops his head up over his computer. Oh shit, he looks worried.

You both get out of the car and he shuffles over hurriedly.

“Where the fuck have you been, Frank?!”

“Got tailed on the way here. Russo sent some mercs after us.”

“Shit. Shit. You need to see this,” he says, rambling wildly before turning to you. “You both need to see this.”

You and Frank follow him to the computer and your mouth drops open. In the background you hear Frank's angry voice swearing harshly.

On the screen was a newspaper headline:  
  
  


**Hero Cop in Punisher Sex Scandal.**

 

There was a picture of you and Frank emblazoned on the front page, hugging outside of the library as well as your precinct photo.

 

Fuck.

 

 


	7. Silence in the Hideout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With nowhere to go, you're stuck in Micro's hideout with the entirety of New York knowing you're with Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time but more in line with the TV series so if you haven't seen it yet, spoilers ahead!
> 
> Rough smut warning and more angst (Because this story totally needed more angst!)
> 
> Happy reading guys! 
> 
> \- TLP x
> 
> (Usually thing about apologies for grammar/spelling)

“That fucking asshole!” you cry, reading the article. “ _Officer Byrne, who most notably brought down a child sex trafficking ring in Hell's Kitchen was seen in the arms of Frank Castle, also known as The Punisher_.....Who fucking wrote this shit?!”

“He's trying to get a rise out of you,” Micro says. “It's a smear campaign.”

“It's more than that,” you say sadly. “It means I can never go back to my job. Ever. That's it. All those years just fucking gone.”

“I'm sorry,” Micro whispers quietly.

You put your hands on the desk and sigh, “If Russo wants to play dirty, I'll fucking play dirty.”

“Hey hey,” Frank says, coming up behind you and pulling you back into his arms. “I'll fix it, I promise. You don't need to be doin' anything rash.”

“It's personal now, Frank,” you say through gritted teeth. “Really fucking personal.”

“I know, darlin', I know,” he says quietly, squeezing you tight.

“We need to go to Madani with this,” Micro says urgently.

“We are not fuckin' going to her, ok?” Frank growls.

“She could get Byrne some immunity or some shit!”

“It's not gonna matter,” you say bluntly. “I'm already tarred in the media. That's it. All I'll ever be now is “The Punisher's mistress” as they put it. Jesus, they couldn't even give me a cool vigilante name.”

You feel Frank tense behind you. He seems just as wound up as you are.

“Well...the main thing is you're safe,” Micro concedes. “Russo didn't kill you.”

“No but he's basically forced me into hiding,” you say bitterly. “Everyone knows my face now. I'm stuck here.”

“Here is the best place for you ta be, 'til I end this,” Frank says strongly.

You break free of his arms and whirl around, “If you think I'm not gonna go after him now after all of this, you're an idiot.”

“Byrne!” he barks and you blanch, flinching at the sound. “Wha' did I tell ya back at Red's, huh?”

You fall silent, knowing you promised him you'd keep out of it. God you were seething though. How dare this fucking asshole ruin your life like this! You wanted to punch that stupid smiling face of Russo's in until it was just a bloody pulp.

“Aw hell, you're not gonna let this go are ya?” Frank sighs. “'Scuse us, Lieberman, I gotta take care of this.”

“Oh god, do I need headphones?” Micro says, grimacing.

“Probably,” Frank chuckles and Micro scrambles to jam the earphones down over his head.

Frank tugs your arm but you stay resolutely put. You wanted to just throw your damned hissy fit in peace.

“Goddamnit, girl,” Frank growls before bodily picking you and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” you yell, trying to push off of his back but he just drops you slightly further over until you're practically upside down. He strides into a disused storage room and lets you slowly fall until your hands hit the floor and you roll onto the ground. In an instant he's on you and pinning your hands to the floor.

“Stop it!” you cry, trying to wriggle away but you're not strong enough.

“You made a promise to me, darlin',” Frank says softly. “You gonna break it?”

“I just....I just...” you can't quite express your anger.

“I know, girl. I'm gonna gut him for what he done but you gotta trust me to do that, ok? Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” you say stubbornly.

“You wanna hit somethin' right?” Frank asks.

“Yeah.”

Frank moves off of your arms and stands up, “Spar with me.”

“What?” you ask bewildered.

“You know, try n' punch me. I might put up a fight for ya this time,” he smirks.

You're that wound up and you know you won't really hurt him so you launch up from the ground, fist at the ready and take a swing. He easily dodges and taps your side.

“Sloppy,” he mutters.

Boy that pissed you off. You kick out at his shin which connects and he gives a small grunt.

“Better.”

You put your hands up in the guard position and he experimentally reaches out. You block it and duck under, hitting him in the chest. He clears his throat slightly and nods. The next jab from him is fast, so fast that you almost get hit. You dodge to the side at the last second, taking his arm and using his own momentum to flip him over. He starts laughing.

“Well shit, girl. Didn't know ya had that in ya.”

“What do you think I do at the gym?” you say. “Take selfies in yoga pants?”

“I think ya lift weights that are much too heavy.”

“Were you spying on me in the gym?” you ask, incredulously.

“For a cop you ain't so observant sometimes,” he chuckles, getting up. “Yeah I watched you for a while.”

You give him no time to prepare and tackle him American Football style, slamming him into the wall. He twists around, arm hooking over your head and binds you in a headlock.

“Yeah, what now, girl? Huh?” he hisses in your ear.

You jump up and use your full bodyweight to pull him off balance. Both of you crash to the floor and you scramble on top of him, using your forearm on his throat to pin him there.

“Atta girl,” he smirks, hands coming up your thighs and squeezing hard. “What now, darlin'? Had enough? Got it all out?”

You lean down, removing your forearm and whispering in his ear, “You know that didn't get all the anger out so why don't we quit this charade, ok? You know how I operate by now.”

You're suddenly flipped over onto the ground and Frank is above you, that predatory gaze in his eyes, “You and I both got some energy to work out, darlin'. 'Sides, I hate seeing you wear Red's clothes.”

He yanks the t-shirt off over your head and roughly palms your breast. You gasp at the sensation and he stops momentarily. “You gonna be alright, girl?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I don't care if it fucking hurts. I need it.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Frank chuckles and takes your nipple in his mouth biting harshly.

You buck beneath him and you feel his smile on your skin. You push him backwards, grabbing at his shirt and dragging it off of him. You run your fingers down the scars and lean up to nip at his chest. His hand comes to grab a fistful of your hair and he yanks your head back, mouthing along the line of your throat.

“Mmm, my little mark is fading,” he rumbles.

“So fix it,” you hiss.

The pain shoots through you straight down to your core and mingles with your arousal as he grips your neck with his teeth hard. His hand winds deeper into your hair and pulls your head further back, exposing your throat and chest to him completely.

“Still mine, girl?” he croaks.

“Uh huh,” you say in your daze.

He turns your head around so that your body has to follow and you're lying face down. He lets go of your hair and uses one his his hands to press down on your back, stopping you from fighting back. He yanks the sweatpants down so that you're completely naked and hits you hard across the ass. You gasp out in shock and pleasure.

“Nice red imprint,” he muses, studying the mark he just left.

You try to get up but he just forces you back down again. You hear him removing his belt and he starts trailing the leather over your skin.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice husky.

“No,” you say confidently.

Smack!

The leather hits your skin and you flinch. He's careful not to hit your already bruised flesh. Another smack and it falls over your ass again.

“Frank,” you say pleadingly. You just want to feel him again.

He lifts his hand from your back and rolls you over, wrapping your wrists in the belt and pulling it tightly. He kicks your legs apart and settles between them, hovering over you. He rakes his hands down your body and you arch heavily. Frank kisses your torso hungrily, trailing downwards before gripping your thighs so hard you can feel the bruises forming. You try to bring your hands down to hold his head but he just growls and shoves them back up.

“Keep 'em there,” he snarls, biting at the soft flesh of your stomach. “Ain't gonna tell you twice.”

“But-” you start.

“It'll be worth it,” he murmurs against you.

You trust him. He trails his mouth down over your hip bone and onto the sensitive skin of your upper thigh. Oh god, is he going to....your thoughts trail off as his lips ghost over your sweet spot and you let out a low moan. He's hesitant and anxious as he licks a long line up, studying your reaction intensely. You let him know exactly how it feels. Gaining confidence, he sets to work, roughly lapping and he dips his tongue into you harshly, invading you.

“Oh fuck!” you cry and he has to hold your thighs in place to stop you writhing.

His teeth find your clit and he holds it gently whilst running little circles. You try to pull away, the sensation too much for you but his grip is too strong.

“Please Frank,” you beg, unable to contain yourself.

He lets go of one of your thighs and slips a finger inside you, curling it up and moving it in rhythm with his tongue. Oh god, this was good. You're pretty sure you're a babbling mess as he relentlessly laps at you. It's not long before your orgasm hits and you're half screaming as he doesn't let up, working you through it. You're shivering, spasming and he comes up from between your legs with the biggest smirk on his face.

“Told ya it'd be worth it,” he chuckles. “S'been a long time since I done that but I think I was ok.”

“Jesus,” you murmur. “What are you like when you're doing that regularly?! Most guys can't even get that technique down.”

He laughs before taking his combat pants off and discarding his boxers. “Well now that you're good n' ready, let's see if I can get some a' my aggression out huh?”

“Promise you won't hold back?” you say, still in half a daze.

“Never do, darlin',” he rumbles and thrusts straight into you.

He has no problem driving in deep and he leans over you, taking your bound wrists in his hand and pressing down. His other hand comes under your ass and lifts you up slightly so he can angle himself better before taking a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over. You're crying out in pleasure as he grinds against your overly sensitive sex and he pulls his hand out from under your thigh and leans further over you, clamping the hand down over your mouth. You know that was a sign things were about to get particularly hardcore.

Frank grunts animalistically as he ruts even harder into you. You lift your legs up and cross them over his back, giving him better access and he responds by driving in extremely deep causing you to scream into his palm. You feel his cock twitch in you as he hears the sound.

Abruptly he pulls out and grabs your hair, dragging you up and forward and you open your mouth just before he spills against it.

“Shit,” he murmurs as he cums hard and you lap up the mess he makes.

Finally the two of you are spent and you both collapse on the stone cold floor.

“That work?” he ask, trying to regain his breath.

“Sure did,” you pant.

“Good,” he rumbles. “Worked for me too.”

He leans over and kisses the top of your head before getting up and fetching Matt's clothes. You both stand up and redress. Frank pulls you into a hug and murmurs against you, “I promise you I'm gonna fix this. I'm not gonna let that son of a bitch do this to ya.”

“I just wanna request one thing,” you say, breathing in his scent as you're leant against him. “Make sure he suffers.”

“Was plannin' on it,” comes the low reply.

He holds you for a while, stroking your hair before he breaks off and says, “I gotta get you some new clothes.”

“You hate me wearing another guy's clothes that much?” you ask.

“If ya wearing anyone's it should be mine,” he grunts and leaves the storage room.

You wait there for a time until he comes back, holding a bundle of clothes and a small bag.

“I went back to your apartment after they finished the crime scene shit, before I went to Red's and I took some stuff out. Not a lot was salvageable n' most of it is in a box in the main room but there's underwear here. I figure you might need it.”

You smile, thanking him before stripping off once again. You pull on a bra and underwear, happy for the support again before assessing what Frank has brought for you to wear. He's given you his own sweatpants, you have to tie the cord tight to keep them up and a long compression pullover. It smells like him, that faint scent of gunpowder, oil and boot polish.

“I like that much better,” Frank smirks.

“I'm sure you do,” you tease.

You both walk back into the main room and Micro is furiously typing away, headphones still on. Frank taps him on the shoulder and Micro jumps heavily before spinning around and whipping the headphones off.

“You guys done with your angry fight sex?” he says pointedly.

“How would you know that if you weren't listening?” you ask, arms folding.

Micro goes white and swallows thickly.

“Lieberman, you're a fuckin' pervert,” Frank sighs before sitting in a chair next to him.

“Not my fault you guys are so loud, fuck,” Micro hisses.

You've stopped listening. You're looking at a set of screens that are showing a house and it seems government officials are raiding it and dragging the occupants away.

“What's this?” you ask.

Micro sits bolt upright, “No, no, no, no, no! Frank!”

Frank's already standing up, watching the scene unfold on the monitors.

“You have to help them!” Micro pleads.

“They don't have everyone,” you say, pointing to Camera 2. “Look, there's a girl hiding there.”

“Oh god,” Micro cries, bringing his hands up into his hair. “Leo!”

“She have a cell?” Frank says urgently.

“Yeah yeah,” Micro whispers.

“Gimme the number, I'm gonna tell her to meet us and you're gonna go get her.”

“I can't, Frank, what am I supposed to say? 'Oh hi baby, daddy's actually been alive for the last year but hasn't bothered to tell you?'”

“That's your family?” you ask, bewildered.

“Yes it's my fucking family,” Micro hisses. “Frank, just do something please. I can't lose them! Tell her to meet me in the park.”

“Alright, alright, I'm doing it,” Frank says hurriedly before going off to make a call.

You place a hand on Micro's shoulder and squeeze it tightly, “It's gonna be alright, we'll get them back.”

“I hope you're right,” Micro whispers.

Frank returns a short while later, “S'done. You need to go get her, ok? She needs her dad.”

Micro stands up, not sure of what to do with himself but Frank turns him around and gives him a gentle push towards the car. He walks over, gets in and peels out of the underground lot.

The second Micro is gone Frank turns to you, face deadly serious, “They got to the Lieberman family, that means they're comin' here next. You need to go.”

“Go where, Frank,” you say stubbornly. “I have nowhere _to_ go. I can't go outside, I'll be arrested the second someone recognises me.”

“If you stay here, they'll kill you,” he hisses.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do then?” you ask angrily.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you out of the blue. This was nothing like before. This kiss was full of passion, fear and earnestness. He pulls away and places his forehead to yours.

“Please,” he says, the word foreign on his lips. “I ain't gonna live with myself if you die because of me.”

“Then tell me where to go,” you plead.

“You go to Red's,” he says firmly. “You hide out there and I'll come get ya when this is done.”

“Ok,” you say, defeated. “I'll go.”

Frank prepares a small rucksack for you of essentials and throws you the keys to the car. You catch them and look to the vehicle before looking back, still unwilling to go.

“Go on, girl, just leave,” Frank says, trying to shoo you away, though you can tell he doesn't really want to do that.

You walk back to him, rucksack slung over your shoulder and grab the back of his neck pulling him down so you can meet his lips. He lets you kiss him and you hold on for as long as you can before drawing back.

“Don't die, Frank,” you murmur. “I don't need another reason to be pissed today.”

“I'll try my best, darlin',” he laughs softly. “Now go.”

You walk towards the car, getting in and taking one last look at Frank before reversing out and driving off, pulling the hood down of the jacket he gave you to obscure your face. This felt wrong. This felt so wrong leaving him there when you knew you could help.

You drive down the New York roads, anxious and frustrated. Once again, you'd had a moment of happiness taken away from you by Russo. If Frank didn't make it, you were gonna finish what he started. Fuck it, you'd already lost your reputation, why not go the whole hog and become The Punisher yourself?

You'd been driving for thirty minutes, almost to Matt's apartment when you stopped at a red light. This was fucking stupid. You weren't going to sit this out. You waited until the next intersection came up and then swung the car around and started driving back on yourself.

I mean you knew how to handle a gun, how to fight. Heck, you'd even got the better of Frank just now and he was a trained marine. You could totally do this and you'd already proven that with the ambush team in the storage unit.

It wasn't long before you were back but you didn't drive down into the power station. You parked nearby and grabbed the pistol you knew was in the glovebox. Quietly, you crept down the ramp and saw the utter carnage below.

Bodies. Bodies everywhere.

Blood snaked up the walls and men were splayed out across the floor. You smell that heavy copper tang in the air.

You press on, silently sneaking through the hideout, trying to find any sign of Frank. Shit. He must have gone already. If he was heading to Matt's he was going to be furious knowing you never made it there.

You decide to just leave. It was obvious the ambush was over and you came back for nothing. Great job, Byrne. You missed it. Some fucking hero you are.

You turn around and see a gun pointed at your head.

“Hello officer Byrne,” Billy Russo smiles in that unnerving way. “I'm gonna have to ask you to drop that gun.”

 

Oh fuck.....

 

You let the gun dangle by the trigger guard before it clatters to the floor.

“Good,” Russo smirks. “I have to say you're a hard woman to kill. I can see why Frank likes you so much. Not very smart though. I'm sure Frank would have told you to go to a safehouse right? And yet, here you are.”

“So just kill me then,” you say bluntly.

“Not today, officer,” he says, producing a syringe from a pouch on his belt. He jams it into your arm and you hiss, pulling backwards. “Let's just say I need you for leverage.”

You start to feel woozy, your vision clouding in and your limbs going weak. You rock unsteadily on your feet as you try to fight it but it's no use. You drop to the floor unconscious.

 


	8. Silence is Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russo has you squarely where he wants you and it's just a matter of time before Frank finds out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, I didn't intend to stay up til 2am but I got on a roll. Whoops! And I was also supposed to be doing another Constantine chapter so naughty me, right?
> 
> Major trigger warning here because I'm writing Russo in the vilest of ways. I've always seen his TV character as a spoiled psychopath so if you don't like graphic violence or non-con suggestion, please look away.
> 
> Other trigger warnings: Torture, Gore.
> 
> We're heading onto the end of the current Punisher series here so spoiler alert still in place but with some non-canon changes.
> 
> Finally, thanks for sticking with the story so far! 
> 
> \- TLP x
> 
> (Spelling, grammar blah blah, you know the drill. I'm my own worst proofreader!)

“And what about your accomplice, Mr Castle?” Madani asks, the video camera trained on Frank.

Frank just stares blankly ahead, “I ain't got nothin' to say on that.”

“Look I get it, you want to protect her, well we want to as well. You say Russo has tried to kill her a few times. Can you just work with us here?” she says huffily.

Frank looks straight into the camera, “Officer Byrne had nothin' ta do with anythin'. She did not participate in any of the killin' I did. She did not aid and abet. She is a goddamn hero and your people treated her like shit-”

“Ok, enough,” Madani says, turning the camera off. “Tell us where she is and we'll pick her up and take her into protective custody.”

“Forgive me, Ma'am, if I don't exactly trust ya completely,” Frank sneers.

“You wanna play this game, fine,” she says holding up her hands. “But I could have helped her get a pardon.”

Frank's jaw tenses but he falls silent.

“Shit,” Madani hisses. “Let's just get to this hostage exchange. You know what to do?”

Frank cracks his knuckles, “Yeah, I'm good.”

 

**

 

You're in the storage room, bound to Micro's chair with rope and it was fucking tight. As you regained your senses you struggled against the binds, twisting and writhing.

Fuck.

Why the fuck did you come back? Why did you disobey Frank? You were just too proud to believe he might be doing the safest thing for you and now look. You're leverage for Billy Russo. Great.

You bring your legs onto the chair and plant your feet on the padding, pushing upwards. The rope loops begrudgingly start to move with you. You keep going, straining and using all the strength in your legs until you're finally in a half standing position. The ropes slide off from their purchase point on the back of the chair and you yank them over your head before crawling off of the seat. What now? There was only one exit out of this room. You look around, trying to find something that could be a weapon. You spot a small screwdriver on one of the shelves. That would have to do.

Footsteps.

Shit, you threw the rope loops back over you, grabbing the screwdriver and hiding it in your sleeve before sitting back down on the chair and doing your best to look miserable.

“Afternoon, miss,” Russo smirks as he opens the door. “I believe we have something to discuss.”

You lazily draw your head up, pretending to still be under the effects of the drug. He had to get closer. Just walk over here, you goddamn asshole!

“Here's the state of play,” Russo begins, leaning against the door. “There's going to be an exchange. Frank and David Lieberman for the rest of the Lieberman family. I'm going to bring Frank here, to Rawlins and you're going to be my bargaining chip to keep Frank compliant.”

“What makes you think parading me is going to stop him doing what he does?” you say mumbling. You try to make your voice quiet so he'll come over to hear you better.

“Oh, I don't know...maybe because of this?” Russo chuckles and pulls out his phone. He walks over and shows you the picture. It's you and Frank. It appears to be dashcam footage from the ambush in the storage unit. Frank is hugging you tightly with his face in your hair. You balk, knowing that this could have been turned into the police. That was all the evidence Russo needed to brand you a murderer and an abettor. Shit this just kept getting worse.

He saw your terrified face and laughed mirthfully, “That's what I thought. You put on quite an impressive display there, Officer. I think you're in the wrong job. Military could have used someone like you.”

You just keep staring at the picture, horrified. He drops down to his haunches in front of you and looks at the screen himself.

“Quite a tender moment there. Frank's not usually one for affectionate displays unless....he really cares about a person. So I'm going to say yes, he's going to be compliant because he'll be afraid to lose you.”

“I think you're reading too much into it,” you mutter defiantly.

Russo grabs a handful of your hair and yanks your head back, standing up and leaning over you, trying to dominate you with his stance.

“Don't you bullshit me!” he roars in your face. “You think I don't know Frank? You think I've not seen that look before? That's the same look he used to give Maria! Castle loves you and I'm gonna use that to fucking rip him apart.”

You spring free of your fake bonds and slam the screwdriver into his shoulder, twisting it and jamming it from side to side, trying to tear the tendons. He screams, falling backwards and clutching the wound as you make a dash for it. You slam the storage room door behind you as you run, trying to slow him down somewhat. Your feet pad loudly on the floor as you run towards the exit ramp. You hear him burst through the door, gaining on you. Shit you wished you did cardio more in the gym!

You're almost to the shutter door but you feel a sharp grab at your shirt and you're thrown into the wall. You barely have time to register before Russo's fist is coming straight at you. You dodge and punch him straight in the screwdriver wound. He howls like a wounded bear before slamming his full body weight against you, sending the air whooshing out of your lungs. You double over, trying to seek oxygen and he kicks your feet out from under you. You fall ungracefully to the floor and he leaps upon you, hand around your throat and squeezing. You desperately try to scratch at his face but he holds you at arms length, a spark of madness gleaming in his eye.

“Mmm, Frank sure does like 'em feisty,” he growls, looking at the blood pouring from his shoulder. He presses harder on your neck and you gasp as you struggle to breathe. “Seems you got me good there.”

“Fuck you, you fucking fuck!” you hiss, as his hand closes tighter.

He leans down over you, yanking a combat knife from his tactical belt and holds it against your face before letting the knife wander down to your chest, slowly trailing.

“I suggest if you don't want me to take you up on that, you shut your goddamn mouth,” he spits.

You freeze. Did he seriously just threaten you with that right now?!

“Yeah, there it is, fear,” he chuckles. “Worked every time overseas.”

“You sick fuck,” you say, eyes wide.

“I always get what I want,” he murmurs, letting the knife snag on the threads of your shirt, creating a small tear. “Maybe I'll just do it anyway, that'll really piss Castle off. I took his precious cop and made her my own.”

“You do that and he'll make sure you suffer for weeks before finally letting you die,” you hiss.

“That's if I don't kill him first,” he says sternly, placing his face mere inches from yours. “And then...well either I'll have no use for you or I can keep you around. You'll learn to like me. I'm very good with women.”

“Yeah because trying to kill them, sabotaging their careers and then threatening to rape them is such a good impression,” you say sarcastically.

He laughs, the sound low and evil, “You have a point, but then you did stab me so I'd say you're lucky I'm giving you this option in the first place.”

He pulls his hand away and replaces it with the knife at your throat, pressing just enough that you feel the line of pressure but not enough to open the skin. His mouth ghosts over your cheek and you fight the urge to be sick.

“Frank always did manage to get beautiful women,” he sighs against you. “But you, you're something else, sweetheart.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Off,” you grunt through gritted teeth, trying hard not to completely freak out.

“You're not in a position to be giving me orders, Byrne,” he chuckles before kissing you on the cheek, his hot breath making you convulse with repulsion. “But....”

He leans back and you internally sigh in relief, glad that he wasn't so close to you any more. The knife is still at your throat though.

“I have somewhere to be,” he continues. “So I'm going to take a little souvenir to Frank, just to show him you said hi.”

The knife hooks into the neck of your shirt and he rips a long line in it, tearing it apart. He makes a few more drags, cutting the logo out in a ragged pattern before he pockets the scrap of fabric. Whilst he's distracted you grab his wrist, twisting it backwards so he drops the knife in surprise. You launch yourself forward, headbutting him in the chest and he goes skittering onto the floor. Scrambling to your feet, you run, renewed by the burst of energy in your body and you almost reach the door when you feel him swing wildly at you, grabbing your hair. He pulls you back painfully. There's no way you can twist out of this as he winds his hand deeper in, dragging you into him. You feel the point of the blade as it comes back to your throat and Russo roars in your ear with frustration. He walks you backwards and you have no choice but to follow.

Once he hits Micro's computer docks, he lets go of your hair and you hear a metallic click. He takes the knife away from you and you spin around ready to take him on again but see he's got a gun trained on you.

“You're really testing my patience, Officer,” he growls. “And you're going to regret that. I made you such a nice offer and that's what you do?”

“Nice?!” you cry. “Being given the option of sex slave or death is not 'nice', Russo. You're fucking twisted.”

His nostrils flare and you see the complete insanity taking over his face, “Strip.”

“What?” you ask, bewildered.

“I said strip,” he says more forcefully.

“Fuck you,” you hiss.

He points the gun towards your feet and fires off a shot that punches into the ground about 2 inches away from you. You flinch and your whole body starts shaking.

“I give you a fucking order, you do it!” he screams.

He was crazy. He was completely fucking crazy. You knew he was not right back at the precinct with his veiled threats and smiling assassin demeanour but you never knew he was capable of this.

With trembling hands you take off the shreds of Frank's shirt and untie the sweatpants cord so they fall straight off you.

“See, that wasn't so hard?” he says, back to his innocent facade. “Now you're gonna stay like that until I bring Frank back here. I don't give a shit if you get cold.”

“Why are you doing this?” you ask quietly.

“Partly so Frank will realise you're completely under my control when he gets here and partly so I can see what he's been enjoying,” he smirks. “From the fingermarks on your thighs, I'd say he's enjoyed you very much.”

“Shut up,” you spit, absolutely disgusted.

“Forgive me,” he says, hand coming mockingly over his heart. “Didn't realise vigilante whores had feelings.”

“Shut up!” you cry louder.

“You'll never be like Maria to him you know,” he smiles, knowing he's making you lose your temper. “He never did that kind of thing to her. She was much too precious to spoil. Look at yourself. You're covered in the marks of a murderer. What does that make you?”

“Still better than you,” you hiss.

His smile fades and his eyes narrow, “Turn around.”

You obey begrudgingly and he comes up behind you, jamming another syringe into you again. As the drug starts to take hold, Russo comes up behind you and breaths heavily into your ear.

“I'll be back for you, Byrne. Maybe I'll ask you to strip the rest off when I get back.”

Mercifully you fall unconscious before he can say any more.

 

**

 

Frank's in the car ready to go to the hostage exchange. He turns to Micro, “Ready for this, Lieberman?”

“Yeah,” Micro says, nervously fiddling with his fingers. “I just wanna see them again. I don't care what happens.”

“It'll be alright,” Frank rumbles, taking his shoulder and squeezing it lightly.

“I hope so, Frank.”

The car stops and both men climb out, waiting for what happens next. A convoy of cars appear and a litany of heavy built mercenaries exit from them, dragging Sarah and Zach out into the field of view.

“David?!” Sarah cries as she spots Micro but she's held back from running over to him.

“I've got a message for you Castle, from Russo,” one of the men says.

“Don't give a shit,” Frank replies bluntly.

“He said you'd say that and he said you'd give a shit when you find out what this is.”

The man tosses something towards Frank's feet and he picks it up, curiously turning it over until he sees the logo on the other side. He freezes.

“What is it, Frank?” Micro whispers, anxiously looking from him to his family.

“He has Byrne,” Frank growls. “This is from the shirt I gave her. Fuck, she must a' never got to Red's.”

“Oh god,” Micro breathes.

“Russo!” Frank yells into the air. “I know you're fuckin' here! Get down here you fuckin' coward! I'm gonna fuckin' rip you apart!”

“He said to tell you the officer is alive and would continue to be alive as long as you co-operate,” the man says confidently.

Frank looked wildly from the man to the mercenaries standing behind him, sizing them up, seeing if he could take them all down. He walks over to them, hands coiled, veins twitching in his neck and the murderous glaze descending over his eyes. Before he can get a chance to snap the guy's throat, a squeal of tyres screeches through the thick atmosphere.

Homeland Security.

It's utter chaos as bullets fly everywhere and Frank turns around for a split second to see Micro taking several rounds to the back as his family is put in a government car.

“NO!” he roars but the mercenaries pounce on him, tackling him to the floor and it takes all of their combined man power to restrain him and bundle him into a vehicle.

The scrap of fabric floats from Frank's hand down into the footwell of the car.

 

**

 

Voices. You hear voices.

You lift your head and your eyes adjust. Man the second dose was even worse. You felt like you were drunk. When your vision finally focuses, you sigh in frustration.

Back in the storage room and this time Russo's taken no chances. You're bound not only to the back of the seat but to the arm rests, central column and wheel spokes on the bottom as well. Fucking piece of shit asshole.

A loud roar cuts into your thoughts, “Where tha' fuck is she?! You fuckin' show her to me right now!”

That was Frank. Russo must have gotten him too. Well shit, this was a complete clusterfuck.

The door bursts open and Russo smiles unnervingly sweetly at you. “Show time. Now remember, if you step out of line or try to escape, Frank's dead.”

You try your best to glare at him but he ignores your petty effort. He comes behind you and starts wheeling the chair out and into the main room. An older man is blocking your view of Frank as he's hissing something in his ear. When he moves away, you gasp slightly.

Fuck, Frank looks terrible. His eye is half swollen, the old cut on his head is reopened and spilling blood down his cheek and his nose seems broken. That was just his face. The rest of him seemed to have been beaten to within an inch of his life.

“This the girl?” the man asks dismissively.

“Yeah, this is the one,” Russo says, pushing you closer.

The man comes over and grabs your chin with his hand, forcing you to look up,”The infamous Officer Byrne. You don't quite know how to die do you?”

“Rawlins!” Frank roars. “You don't fuckin' touch her! Ya hear me!”

Rawlins. Oh shit, this was the guy, the guy responsible for everything. Rawlins walks around your chair so Frank has an unobstructed view.

“Darlin',” Frank says, trying to catch your eye. “Look at me.”

You raise your face and look straight into his gaze. He looks broken, fearful and anguished.

“I'm sorry I got ya into this,” he murmurs. “I shoulda never have come near ya. Shit, what have they done to ya?”

“It was my decision, Frank,” you say, smiling sadly. “I chose the hill I wanted to die on and it turned out you were standing at the top of it.”

He hangs his head, ashamed. Rawlins just laughs unkindly as he fidgets with some tools.

“Such a sweet reunion,” Rawlins chuckles. “Loyalty is a rare thing. What a shame it's going to get her killed.”

“No!” you hear Frank yell but you can't turn your head as you feel Rawlins approaching and a length of cord is snapped around your neck, pulling tightly.

The pressure is immense as he yanks back and you squirm, desperate to get free to try and get the cord off. Your mind is in utter panic mode as you're certain you're going to die. You can feel your vision closing in.

“You fuckin' bastard! I'm gonna fuckin' kill you! Ya hear me! I'll fuckin' kill you! You fuckin' let her go!” Frank yells, rocking the chair he's tied around violently.

The cord slackens and you cough, trying to regain some air into your lungs.

“Oh now there's the fire,” Rawlins laughs. “Why is it Castle that you have loyalty to this girl but not your country? You couldn't leave well enough alone and it got your family killed. Well guess what, now you're going to get her killed as well. You think you're better than me? You think you could make better decisions than I could? What the fuck do you know? You're just a stupid grunt!”

He walks back over to Frank, pulling knuckle dusters onto his hand and punches him viciously in the stomach. Frank half vomits blood down his shirt.

“Stop it!” you cry, struggling against the ropes.

“Russo, shut her up,” Rawlins sneers.

Russo comes behind you, mockingly stroking your hair. “Hey, Frank?”

Frank looks up at him with his one good eye and you don't think you've ever seen a more venomous glance.

“This is your mark, right?” he asks, pointing to the bruise with teeth imprints on your neck. “What if I were to....”

Your head is yanked violently to the side and Russo's teeth bare down upon the yellowing circle. You can't help but scream as he viciously tears at the skin, sending a small rivulet of blood running down your chest. Through your pain you can hear Frank roaring, the sound low and primal.

“Enough!” he barks. “Stop hurtin' her! It's me ya fuckin' want so deal with me like a man rather than torturin' a woman who's got nothin' ta do with it!”

Russo draws away from your neck and wipes his mouth casually, clearing the traces of blood. You sob quietly, tears flowing down your face. You were done being brave. This was too much.

“What shall I do with her?” Russo asks Rawlins.

“Do I have to think of everything?!” Rawlins says with a dismissive wave. “This is why men like me are at the top and grunts like you take orders. You can't think for yourselves, you're too fucking stupid.”

You watch as Russo's jaw tenses. That was obviously the wrong thing for Rawlins to say. You can almost see the change in Russo, the doubt, the allegiance wavering. Come on you bastard, you think. Just kill him and let us go.

Rawlins goes back to pummeling Frank, his punches becoming more and more aggressive. Russo walks around the back of your chair and you feel something snagging. Wait, was the rope becoming looser? The bonds fell slightly on your body as they became slacker. Your arms seemed to be able to move much further than before as well. There's a drop of coldness against your back and you feel the metal of a blade wedged in between you and the chair. Was he leaving you a knife?! Russo walks back over to Rawlins, inspecting his handiwork on Frank and you pull free, grabbing the knife from behind you and using it to cut the last remaining loops around your feet. You quickly go back to a prone position as Rawlins turns around to grab a shot of adrenalin and he thrusts it into Frank's arm.

“You're not going out just yet,” Rawlins hisses. “I want you to know when it's coming.”

With Rawlins' back turned to you, you silently stand up, creeping over before pouncing and plunging the knife into Rawlins' shoulder. He yelps in surprise and you push him off balance, pulling the knife out in a swift motion before diving around Frank's chair and severing the zip tie cord. Immediately Frank bursts out of his sitting position and rounds on Rawlins punching and kicking violently. Rawlins falls to the floor and Frank is on him, using all of his might to try and cave the man's head in with each blow. You slide the knife along the floor to Frank and he grabs it, sticking Rawlins several times throughout the torso and neck. He roars as he jams his thumbs into the man's eyes so hard they pop and his fingers sink into the soft tissue of his brain. Rawlins' body spasms and twitches for some time until he's finally still. Frank rolls off of him and you run towards him, kneeling down and placing a hand on his chest.

“Frank!” you call, trying to stop him from falling unconscious. He's bleeding heavily in so many places and you panic that he might actually be dying in front of you.

“I almost went with her,” he mumbles, delirious.

“Who?” you ask.

“Maria,” comes the dazed reply. “She asked me ta go with her, give up on life, die.”

Your heart breaks. Maybe Russo was right. You would never measure up to Frank's wife.

“But I said no,” he coughs, the spittle tainted with red. “I said I got a new girl. I couldn't leave her. She needed me.”

“I'm right here, Frank,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head.

“I said I couldn't abandon her,” Frank continues, muttering to no one in particular. He seems too far gone to focus. “She asked me why, why does this girl matter? I said I loved her and I ain't never got to tell her that. I can't die without tellin' her.”

Tears spill down your cheeks and you lean over to kiss his lips. He seems to finally register you're there and he leans slightly into it.

“You're cryin', darlin',” he says softly. “I ain't ever seen you cry.”

“You stupid fucking idiot,” you half smile. “Why do you gotta wait until you're dying to tell me how you feel?”

“Told ya, I ain't good with it,” he says, the ghost of a smile on his face.

You kiss him again before pulling back, “I lo-”

 

Boom!

 

The door to the hideout shudders as Homeland Security finally arrive. Russo grabs you by the hair and yanks you off of Frank, shoving a gun against your temple.

“As much as this is sweet, I'm going to have to say my goodbyes, Frank. I'll be taking Byrne here as further insurance. I hope you don't mind,” Russo says, panic setting into his voice as he forces you to walk away.

“Russo!” Frank roars, unable to get up off of the floor. “You're gonna get yours!”

“Yeah yeah, heard it before Frank,” Russo hisses.

“Byrne!” Frank calls after you and the last thing you see before you're pulled out of the hideout is Frank's outstretched arm reaching for you.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the future, I probably have one more chapter relating to the Punisher TV plotline and then I have one more chapter planned after that.


	9. Silence on the Carousel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Russo's last stand and he's going to make this as hellish as possible. Can Frank save you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, bit of a monster chapter but it is the technical end of the current Punisher storyline so spoiler alert as per.
> 
> Heavy violence, possible triggering behaviour from Russo and strong gore warnings!
> 
> (It's 2am again so I'm not sure if I proofread this right but hey, it's going out haha you guys have waited patiently)
> 
> \- TLP x

Frank still has his arm outstretched as Micro bursts in the hideout.

“Frank!” he cries, running and buckling to his knees, sliding across the concrete towards Frank's battered body.

“Lieberman?!” Frank splutters in surprise.

“I'm sorry, Frank! We had to stage it. I had to keep my family safe. Ah shit, you're bleeding everywhere!” Micro takes his shirt off, trying to stem the wounds and Frank just grunts at the pressure.

“You gotta get Madani onto Russo,” Frank grimaces as he tries to get up.

“There's no time for that Frank, he got away. You need to rest up,” Micro says firmly.

“Aww fuck,” Frank growls, trying to sit up again but he feels the wheeze of his rib collapsing onto his lung.

“Please don't move!” Micro shouts in a panic. “For fuck's sake, Frank, stay still!”

Frank grabs onto the collar of Micro's t-shirt with an iron grip, “He's still got her.”

Micro's eyes widen before he shakes his head, “You can't go after him like this. He'll kill you and then fuck knows what he'll do to her.”

“What if he's already doin' somethin' to her,” Frank says, a pained expression on his face. “I can't...I can't let him, Lieberman. It's my goddamn fault. She was right here and I couldn't fuckin' save her.”

“Frank, I promise you, we'll save her,” Micro says, gripping Frank tightly.

Frank's eyes go unfocused and he starts shivering before he collapses onto the floor with a heavy thud. Micro tries to shake him but he doesn't respond.

“Frank?” he says, nervously. “Frank!” He looks up to the Homeland Security agents as they congregate in the hideout. “Somebody help me! Please help me! My friend is dying!”

 

**

 

“Keep walking, sweetheart,” Russo growls, the gun jammed into your temple as he barrels you towards a car.

“Fuck you,” you hiss.

“Getting really tired of your attitude,” he spits, pressing the gun so hard into your skin you feel the imprint already settling.

You reach the car and he orders you to turn around and place your hands behind your back. Reluctantly you do so. You've got no chance trying to run away. He might even enjoy shooting you if you run. At least if you keep yourself alive, there's a chance Frank will come for you.

Russo pulls some zip ties out of his tactical belt and locks them viciously onto your wrists so they bite hard into your flesh. “I'm taking some more precautions this time.”

He opens the passenger side and shoves you unceremoniously onto the seat. He yanks the seatbelt over you and you take the opportunity whilst he's tucked the gun away into his waistband to headbutt him with all your might.

“Fuck!” he roars and punches you in the face before you can move. You see your vision split into sparkling lights as you keel over to the side. Oh shit that was a bad idea...

He grabs your hair, holding your head back whilst he buckles you into the seat and slams the door quickly before jumping into the driver's seat. He jams his foot onto the accelerator and you're pressed back with the force. He dodges down a side street, away from the raid team's view and speeds the entire way to wherever he was going. You keep quiet. He didn't need to be provoked right now. He was a man who knew his card was marked and that was dangerous.

He pulls into the parking lot of Anvil headquarters and you wait as he comes round and opens the door. He grabs you forcefully and walks you around to the back of the car before opening the boot.

“I've got a few errands to run first,” he says, eyes wide and manic. “So I'll be needing you to stay put for a while. Get in.”

“In the trunk?!” you cry.

“I'm asking you nicely, Officer,” Russo says through gritted teeth. “I could just knock you out and stuff you in there.” His hand twitches to the gun again.

You stare at him for a moment before going to sit on the lip of the trunk, letting yourself slide in and nestling yourself down.

“Finally,” Russo says sarcastically. “We're on an understanding. I like you much better when you co-operate. Sit tight, Officer.”

He closes the trunk and you're left in complete darkness. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. What were you going to do? You felt enclosed, trapped and you had to breathe in and out slowly a few times to calm yourself. How on earth was Frank supposed to find you? Was he even alive right now? He'd been pretty badly tortured and you were sure he'd definitely needed some surgery to fix some of the stab wounds. Did Madani find him in time? God you felt like you were running out of air. The atmosphere was becoming warm and oppressive. How long had you been in here?

You feel the car shake violently and hear a loud boom echo through the metal. What the fuck was that?! An explosion?! A short time later, you hear the car door open and shut and the rev of the engine. You're thrown forward as the car speeds off and you have to angle your shoulder to stop your face smashing against the trunk lid.

“Hey!” you call but you know he doesn't care. You have to play a game of bracing yourself against the corners as Russo takes drastic turns and brakes heavily.

Eventually he stops and you hear footsteps. Bright light floods your eyes and you squint, blinking as you try to adjust.

“Out,” Russo says coldly.

You swing your legs out of the trunk and stand up. You're in an underground parking lot somewhere. Russo grabs your shoulders and begins marching you towards a service elevator, shoving you in and using a key to unlock a button hidden by a panel. The lift starts and he turns to you, tapping his fingers against his other hand and studying you with those cold brown eyes. You look away and catch sight of yourself in the mirror. God you look like absolute shit. Your hair is a matted mess, you're covered in blood and bruises, with your neck completely savaged and all you have to cover yourself is a bra and underwear.

“This didn't have to happen like this,” Russo says, noticing your face. “You could've just let me do what I was going to do and you could've come out unscathed.”

You say nothing. The elevator dings and the doors open into a sparse apartment and Russo motions his head for you to move. You walk out and stop in the hallway. You feel a push against your back and you end up stood at a sofa.

“Sit down,” he orders and you comply. He takes out the gun and sighs, “Now I'm taking a big gamble here letting you move your arms but I'm trusting that you'll be smart enough to not try anything. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod.

He takes a small knife and cuts the zip ties and you sigh in relief as your sore muscles are able to stretch. The skin around the zip tie indents feels incredibly itchy and tender and you rub both of your wrists furiously.

“Good girl,” he says before sitting down opposite you, the gun propped on his leg. “We'll be staying for the night before I move onto plan B.”

“Why did you help me?” you ask, head down and staring at the floor.

“What?” he says, half puzzled and half annoyed that you're speaking again.

“At the hideout, you cut the bonds. Why?”

Russo sighs and smooths his hair back, “Because Rawlins was never going to see me as an equal partner. I was just a soldier to him and that pissed me off. I promised Frank I'd give him an easy death but so I figured I'd let him get a small win before I ended his life.”

“Well, shit, there was me thinking you had a spark of decency left,” you mutter.

Russo cocked the gun and pointed it at you, “God you never stop, do you? You're always fighting me in some way.”

“I'm a little past being scared of that thing,” you say, trying to force your voice to be more aggressive. “If I wasn't convenient you would've killed me already.”

“Doesn't mean I can't cripple your limbs,” he hisses. “Fuck, Frank. I wished he'd fucked some diner waitress. Would've been less work.”

“You and I both know that's not his style,” you say and Russo laughs bitterly before dragging his eyes over your body.

“You were so pretty before you started resisting,” he muses. “Get up.”

You stay where you are for a second before rising slowly, trying to be as defiant as possible. Russo stands up and gestures with the barrel of the gun to another room.

“Go in there.”

This was a bathroom. You're apprehensive, wondering what is going to happen. Russo walks past you and turns the shower on.

“Clean yourself up,” he orders before leaning against the opposite wall.

“You're gonna stay there?” you ask, heart beating wildly. What was he up to?

“You have a habit of trying to escape, Officer. I'm not taking my eyes off of you for one second,” comes the calculated reply.

You step straight into the shower with your underwear still on. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction. His lip twitches in annoyance and you see the muscles of his shoulders tensing.

“True to form, Byrne,” he says simply.

You make the shower as functional and quick as possible, washing the blood away and trying to get your hair back in order. You don't give Russo a second glance. You're bitterly remembering your time with Frank in Matt's bath as you scrub at your skin. You wished you could go back to that.

Finally you're done and you step out of the shower, grabbing a towel and pulling it tight around you. Russo's giving you a look that makes your blood curdle.

“Better,” he says. “You almost look sweet.”

“Shame about the beating you gave me,” you snap back. “I suppose the bruises really ruin the image.”

“Oh I don't know,” he smiles darkly. “I'd say I left a nicer mark than Frank did.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. “Just fucking shut up, you spoilt psychopath.”

“Is that what you think of me?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I bet you get whatever the fuck you want in life; women, fine dining, designer labels and when that shit doesn't satisfy you any more you turn to killing,” you say, holding your ground. “You interrogated me, you had someone try to kill me, you blew up my home, you threatened to rape me and you tortured me. What gives you the fucking right to make remarks like that? You're just a psychopath.”

He moves faster than you can process and you're slammed into the wall of the shower cubicle, his forearm pressed into your throat, “You know, insulting the man who has you held hostage isn't very smart, Officer and no, I've not had whatever the fuck I wanted in life. I've had to earn it and now I enjoy it. Rage against me all you like but Frank picked the wrong side to fuck with and he's a stupid son of a bitch for doing that and he's dragged you down with him. This is all on him.”

He lets his hand rest on your hips and travel up your waist to your ribcage. You feel your muscles try to contract away from his touch but you have nowhere to recoil back to. “I'm giving you one last out, Byrne. Pick the winning side.”

“I did,” you say firmly. “That was Homeland coming for you, Russo. The game is over. Checkmate.”

Russo's hand tightens against your ribs, squeezing hard before yanking you out of the shower and into the main room. He throws you to the floor so hard that you're winded. You try to scramble to the door but you feel his interlocked fists hammering down on your back. He rolls you over and the last thing you see before his fist hits your temple is that face of his, the one drenched in insanity.

 

**

 

Frank awakens with a start. Madani and Micro had taken him back to Madani's place and her father had performed a medical procedure. It hurt like shit but Frank couldn't think about that right now. He knew you were out there, out there with Billy. He was frantic.

“Lieberman?” he calls.

“Right here,” Micro answers, turning to him. “Jesus, you frightened me, Frank. I thought we'd lost you.”

“Castle,” Madani says, coming over as well.

“I gotta go,” Frank says gruffly.

“Are you shitting me?” Micro cries. “You just had major surgery and you can barely move.”

“I gotta find her.”

“Byrne?” Madani asks.

“Russo escaped with her,” Micro says filling in the blanks.

“Son of a bitch,” Madani hisses. She seems to get a guilty expression on her face.

Frank gets up with a great effort and mentally checks his injuries. He could survive them. He could survive them long enough to find you.

“Castle, you need to sit down,” Madani says, trying to herd him back onto the bed.

“No use telling him that,” Micro laughs softly. “He's not gonna listen.”

“Castle, if you go after Russo, I can't legally condone that. You're on your own and if I see you again I will have to arrest you. Do you understand?” Madani says, looking Frank straight in the eyes.

“I got it,” comes the gruff reply.

Madani sighs heavily before walking off into another room. Micro waits until she's gone before handing Frank a package.

“That's for you,” he says.

“What is it?” Frank asks, turning it over.

“Money. I kinda stole it from some criminal's bank accounts....fair game right?” Micro laughs.

Frank chuckles, “Shit Lieberman. You're a digital Robin Hood.”

“There's enough there to rebuild your life,” Micro says, patting Frank on the arm. “Enough for both you and Byrne to make a fresh start. You're gonna find her, Frank. You're gonna get her back and she's gonna have some shitty insult cued up ready to fire at me.”

Frank smiles sadly, “I appreciate it. I appreciate all you done. It's time to end this now.”

 

**

 

You wake up bound in ropes again. Russo seems to have dressed you and you shudder to think he had his hands on you again. You appear to be lying on a bed and it's dark outside. You can see the lights of airplanes in the sky as they sail past. What time was it?

You hear a light ruffle behind you and look over your shoulder to see Russo sleeping next to you. Sick fuck. You can't believe he's tied you up and then slept next to you. You try to move your legs, to see if you could crawl away silently but he's rigged the ropes to something that clatters to the floor with a loud bang. He jerks up, whirling around and grunts.

“You think I would be that stupid?” he hisses.

“It's not going to stop me trying, ever,” you say flatly. “I don't give a shit if I keep you up all night.”

He growls before getting up and finding more rope. He anchors your feet to the end of the bed so you can't move out of it and trusses your hands up to the bedpost. “You're not going anywhere, Byrne, just accept it. I will knock you out again if I have to.”

He climbs back into the bed and laces his hands behind his head, watching you for a reaction. You just stay silent. There was no point in fighting back. You were tired, your head was pounding and you really needed the rest. The simplest thing to do would be to recover your energy and take the fight to him again in the morning.

You close your eyes and try to steady your breath, imagining Frank was lying next to you instead. That memory of Matt's apartment again, the way he'd held you, the way you felt so safe in his arms. Eventually you fall asleep.

 

 

 

The next morning you're sore, sorer than you've been in a long time. The bruises have worked their way through to the deep layers of your skin and your arms and legs hurt from the strain of the rope. Russo is already up and dressed, sat in a chair across from the bed and looking out of the window. He spots that you're awake and says with a shit eating smile, “Morning.”

“Let me out of these fucking things,” you hiss.

“You're not a polite woman, are you?”

“Let me out, Russo.”

“Not until you say please,” he says, waggling his finger.

Shit, he wanted to get the upper hand again. “Fine,” you say, playing along. “Please let me out.”

“Much better,” he says, coming over. “It doesn't cost anything to be polite.” He takes out his smartphone and snaps a picture of you. “Just for Frank, later. I'm sure he'd like to see how you're doing.” He unties you after that.

You're finally free and you sit up, stretching your limbs out.

“Don't get too used to it, I'm only letting you use the bathroom and then I'm putting you back in these. I have a reservation with Frank and an old friend to get to.”

“So you're just going to leave me here?!” you say, angrily.

“You'll get in my way,” he shrugs. “Plus you're my leverage. I'm not about to bring that with me to a gun fight. Now go. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and let you close the door this time.”

He points the gun at you, shooing you into the bathroom. You're insanely grateful that he's leaving you be. When you're finished, you look in the mirror and see the purple bruise on your face. Frank was going to flip his shit when he saw you again. Maybe that's why Russo did it.

“Officer?” Russo calls through the door. “If you don't come out in thirty seconds, I'm going to come in.”

You make a face at yourself in the mirror and then turn to walk out again. Russo is waiting outside, rolling the rope around in his hand.

“Shall we?” he says.”I'm on a tight schedule.”

 

**

 

Frank is on the rooftop scouting out Curtis' house. He's been there for a while, silently waiting. He looks through the scope and sees Russo breaking in. Show time.

He watches as Curtis and Billy start talking. They seem to be in a heated debate. Finally they come to the kitchen. Come on, Curtis, get him flush against the window....

Curtis holds out a coffee cup, trying to force Russo to walk into the perfect line of fire.

“One batch, two batch, penny and dime,” Frank breathes before firing a shot off. Shit, Russo ducked.

Frank sees a muzzle flash in the building and Curtis collapses. Fuck. This was not going as planned. He looks into the scope and sees movement near the window frame. He chambers another round and lets it fly.

Nothing.

Time to change tactic. Curtis was down. He wasn't going to kill him in the crossfire. He got his cell out and dialled Curtis.

“You doin' ok?” Frank asked.

“He got me in the shoulder,” Curtis replied. “I'm not as fast as I used to be.”

“It's alright, I'll make it right,” Frank said soothingly. “Toss the phone ta Billy.”

He hears talking in the background and the sound of scraping as the cell is slid across the floor.

“Hey Frankie,” Russo drawls. “Got you in a bit of a bind huh?”

“You let Curtis go,” Frank growls.

“You're not in a position to be giving me orders Frank,” Russo says, getting the number from Curtis' phone and texting a picture across. “You'll see why in a moment.”

Frank looks at his screen and an image of you tied to a bed, bruises across your face appears. Rage builds inside of him.

“Billy,” he says in a low dangerous voice. “Let's finish this. You and me. You let Curtis go, you bring Byrne and we end this. Name your battleground.”

“Meet me at the carousel,” Russo says. “You know the one. Midnight.”

Click. He hangs up.

 

**

 

You're bored out of your mind. You've been waiting for hours and you're hungry, hungry and thirsty. You've counted all of the swirls on the ceiling and the diamonds in the pattern on the curtain.

Fuck you hoped Frank was ok.

The door crashes open and Russo bursts in wide eyed.

“Frank says hello,” he says sarcastically.

“You mean he tried to shoot you?” you fire back.

“Tried,” Russo hisses. “We're going to meet him, but I have some prep work to do, so come on. We're leaving.”

He comes over and begins yanking all of your ropes off before pointing the gun again and making you turn round. Once again you're in zip ties. You keep telling yourself this will be over soon, that you only have to bear it for a little while longer.

You're marched to the car and he drives you, eyes looking this way and that. He's scared, you realise. He's hyped up on adrenalin and he's scared. This is what he must have been like on tours in the Middle East. This is it. This is the final showdown.

You slowly pull up and you recognise exactly where you are. The carousel. The carousel where Frank's family was murdered. The horses take on a sinister look, the painted eyes wild and staring.

“We're here,” Russo says, gripping the steering wheel grimly.

“I can't believe you'd bring him back here,” you whisper. “You're beyond evil.”

“Evil is subjective,” Russo laughs dryly. “I term this as a strategic advantage. I trigger his PTSD and that gives me the upper hand, especially when he sees what I have in store.”

He gets out of the car and drags you out as well. You don't want to go anywhere near the thing. You know what it represents. Russo ends up throwing you over his shoulder when he becomes frustrated that you won't move and he walks you up to the platform, depositing you on one of the horses. He cuts the zip ties but immediately trusses your hands up to the pole running through the horse.

“That should keep you a while,” he says. “Now stay put, Frank shouldn't be too far away.”

Russo moves off towards the park area and you take the opportunity to struggle as hard as you can. Fuck, it was no use. You were weak from hunger and your arms were locked at the joints from the constant strain. You try to calm yourself down. You felt so wrong being here.

Gunfire.

Fuck, was that Russo or Frank?

You see both men barrelling out of opposite directions, firing at each other as they duck behind bins and park benches. You want to call to Frank so badly but you would just distract him.

The two of them make it onto the carousel and Russo hits the switch to start it. Immediately the blaring fairground music rings in your ears and the horse starts moving up and down beneath you.

“Byrne?!” Frank shouts.

“Here!” you call back, unable to turn around properly.

Russo ducks around from the centre and fires a shot that hits Frank in the leg. Frank grunts but quickly returns the volley, sending a bullet tearing into Russo's cheek. Russo looks outraged as he presses his fingers to the wound as if he can't believe it has happened.

“Enough, Frankie,” Billy hisses, moving towards you and pulling a combat knife out before stabbing you in the side with it.

It's a pain you can never fully describe. It's white hot, almost like it's burning the skin around it. The farther he presses it in, the more you can feel your muscles being sliced open internally and the blood starts pouring out, coating your skin.

“NO!” Frank roars.

“Uh uh uh, Frank,” Russo smiles. “You put down that gun or I twist this and open her up properly. How long do you think she'd last before you got to her?”

“I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!” Frank screams as he throws his gun to the side.

Russo draws the knife back out of you and you feel the serrated edge cleaving the skin further. You scream, writhing against your restraints, trying to get your hands free. Fresh blood spills from the wound and starts dripping onto the carousel platform.

“RUSSO!” Frank cries.

“What a shame she'll bleed out now,” Russo says nonchalantly.

You let your head loll to the side and see a woman approaching, gun raised. You want to warn her, want her to stay back but you're too in shock to call out.

“Billy Russo, you're under arrest,” Madani shouts but she barely gets time to move forward before Russo whirls around and shoots her straight in the head. She drops to the floor with a heavy thud.

Frank appears out of nowhere, tackling Russo to the floor and Russo's gun goes skittering under the centre platform. They grapple with each other, both getting punches in on the other one before Russo slams Frank into the mirror in the centre. The glass cracks and shatters, leaving shards lying everywhere.

You see your chance, “How does it feel to be on the losing side, Russo?”

Russo looks at you with pure hatred, “Shut up you worthless fucking whore!”

That gives Frank all the time he needs to grab a shard of mirror and stick it straight into Russo's gut.

“Don't you fuckin' call my girl a whore,” Frank growls, jamming the glass in deeper. “You piece a' shit!”

Russo looks at Frank in surprise as the blood begins to crest in his mouth and spill down his chin. He falls to his knees and Frank yanks the glass back out. He immediately limps over to you, cutting the rope and you almost cry in happiness as your arms return to a lower position. You swing your leg over the horse and half fall into his arms. He holds you tightly, forehead to yours.

“I'm here, darlin',” he whispers against you. “I got ya.”

The mirthful laugh of Russo interrupts you as he stumbles to his feet, clutching his stomach.

“Just fucking finish it Frank! You fucking coward!” he says.

You see red. You've fucking had it. You've had it with his abuse, you had it with his torture, you've just had it. You push Frank away with unnatural strength, ignoring the tearing sensation in your abdomen and the red slick on your waist. You march over to Russo who's looking at you curiously whilst he tries to remain upright. You grab him by the collar and run him backwards, back into the glass and you rain blow after blow down upon him.

 

You punch his jaw.

 

You punch his nose.

 

You punch his cheek.

 

Crack.

 

The bone fractures and he howls in pain but you're not done. You're not even fucking close to done. You grab him by the shirt and slam his head backwards over and over into the glass until he's a dazed mess, slumping to the ground. You grab a shard and raise it up, ready to bring it down when Frank grabs your wrist.

“No, Byrne,” he says softly.

You look at him, chest heaving wildly and tears forming in your eyes.

“Why not?” you ask, grunting through your pain.

“You promised,” he says quietly. “Let me end this.”

“I don't want to stop,” you say, your voice shaking. “He deserves this, he fucking deserves this. You saw the picture. That's just the beginning of the shit he did to me.”

Frank winces slightly and hugs you from behind, careful not to aggravate your wound, “Please.”

You hear so much pain in that word. Frank projects all of his fear, all of his suffering and all of his need into that one little word.

You drop the shard and it clatters to the floor uselessly.

Frank leans his head against yours, kissing your cheek gently, “Thank you. Now, let me handle it.”

He moves past you to Russo's prone body and picks him up to a standing position, “I'm not gonna kill ya, Russo. You fucked with my life, you fucked with my family, you fucked with my girl. I'm gonna make sure you wear those sins on your face every fuckin' day when you look in the mirror.”

He grabs Russo's hair and begins dragging his face down the jagged mirror. Russo screams, trying to pull away but Frank is too strong and Russo's skin begins to peel away in ribbons, the blood splattering onto the floor. You just watch silently as you clutch your side, trying to place pressure there. Frank drags him down a second time and small pieces of glass embed themselves into Russo's face, punching through to the soft layers of tissue.

Fuck you pretty boy, you think. No woman will ever look at you twice again.

Finally Frank knocks him out by slamming his head against the mirror frame. He stands up, turning round to you and lays a hand on your cheek gingerly.

“I knew you'd find me,” you say, smiling weakly.

“Always will, darlin',” he says softly, before gently kissing you.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, starting to let the tears fall from your eyes.

“No no, don't cry,” he hushes you, stroking your head.

“I didn't go to Matt's because I'm a fucking idiot and I thought I could help you and instead I just-”

He shushes you with another soft kiss. “Calm down, girl. I got ya.”

“Frank,” you whisper. “I love you too.”

“I'm real happy to hear that,” Frank laughs warmly. “I realised when I woke up I'd kinda declared my undying love but I never got ta hear what you said after. Coulda told me to fuck off for all I knew.”

You start to feel dizzy, your head is pounding so heavily. You sway and you take a step back to try and steady yourself.

“Darlin'?” Frank asks, concerned.

Exactly how much blood had you lost? You look to the side and see a sizeable puddle and trail leading right to you. Oh. That was a lot.

“Byrne?” Frank asks, more forcefully, taking your shoulders in his hands.

Your legs give out and he catches you before you hit the floor. Your vision swims and all you can hear before it fades to black is Frank calling your name over and over again.

Frank scoops you up and carries you towards the edge of the carousel, next to Madani's prone body. He sits down, cradling your form in his arms as he watches the approaching sirens of the government, police and the ambulance come into view. Men and women start rushing towards the scene.

Frank looks down at you and strokes your cheek with a shaky finger, his own tears spilling onto your face.

“Hey!” he shouts towards the paramedics. “Somebody please! Please help me! She's dyin'!”

The ambulance team reach the carousel and begin immediately opening their medical kits.

 

“I can't lose her,” Frank whispers. “Please help me.”

 

 


	10. Silence in the Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the carousel showdown, how will you and Frank process it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry It's a shorter one guys. It's 12am and I'm supposed to be up for work in 5 hours so I had to cut the writing time short but hey it means there will be an extra chapter I hadn't originally planned for!
> 
> Expect fluff and some more angst going on
> 
> (Do I even need to say I'm a bad proofreader at this point? Haha)
> 
> \- TLP x

Beep..........beep..........beep.........beep.

What was that? A soft and rhythmical sound snakes gently through your daze. Your limbs feel incredibly heavy, like you have no energy left in your entire body. Was it night time? Were you asleep? Maybe that's why you felt like you wanted to crawl back into the darkness. The darkness was warm and cosy. Perhaps you'd stay like this for a while.

Beep..........beep..........beep.........beep.

You were sure you were forgetting something important but the little voice in the back of your head couldn't find the words. The compulsion just to drift off again was too strong and it was overriding any thoughts from your brain. I could just rest. I'm sure I'll remember whatever it is when I wake up properly.

Beep..........beep..........beep.........beep.

Man that was getting annoying. Had you forgotten some alarm? Shit, were you late for work?!  
Your eyes struggle open and you're struck by the blinding whiteness all around you. Fuck, were you dead?!

Beep..beep..beep..beep..beep..beep..beep..

You rapidly turn your head this way and that, trying to make sense of what was going on. Your eyes settle on the heart rate monitor which was going haywire next to you as you worked yourself up into a panic. Doctors burst through the door, fussing around you, trying to help you calm down and discussing with each other whether you needed sedating.

You remembered. You remembered the carousel. You remembered Russo. He stabbed you. Oh my god he stabbed you!

“Breathe with me,” a nurse says to your left but you can't help but look down at your torso with it's heavy bandaging and now you were practically hyperventilating. You didn't want to be here. You just wanted to get out, out into the fresh air. The sterile ward was suffocating and the doctors circling you were making you claustrophobic.

The door flings open, knocking into one of the ward staff. You can't see who has entered due to the team of doctors hovering over you, trying to fit an oxygen pump over your mouth but you can hear him alright.

“What's happenin'?!” Frank demands, still in his own hospital gown.

“Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” a bossy nurse says, getting in his way.

“The fuck I am,” Frank snarls and pushes past her, limping slightly. “You ain't tellin' me to wait outside when a whole bunch of ya are in here. I wanna know what's goin' on. Somebody better start fuckin' talkin'!”

“Sir!” she shouts, trying to grab his arm but he shrugs out of her grip and comes to the bed, moving the medical staff out of the way and finally seeing you struggling with a doctor trying to put the pump on you.

“Byrne!” he half cries in relief. “You're awake!”

“Frank!” you rasp, still in full blown panic mode. The word comes out breathier than you meant it and he can see you're struggling to control yourself.

“Get that shit away from her,” Frank orders and the terrified doctor just backs off straight away. Frank comes round and takes your hand. “Breathe with me, girl. In for four, out for four. I'll squeeze your hand every second so ya know.”

You do as he says, him gently pressing your hand every step of the way. Gradually you regain control, your breathing steady. The doctors just look to Frank before deciding there was nothing more to do, or at least nothing more whilst he was there and walk out.

“Atta girl,” Frank praises softly. “You're so fuckin' brave, you know that?”

“I don't feel very brave,” you say. “I feel anxious, I feel guilty, I-”

“No no no, shhhh,” he says gently, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “Don't do that. You're safe now, I got ya.”

“I got stabbed, Frank,” you whisper, hearing your voice tremble slightly. “I've been a cop for years and I've never had anything like that happen to me. I don't know how to process it.”

“One day at a time, darlin',” Frank smiles sadly. “Most people ain't ever had to deal with the shit that we have in the last few months. Now, I ain't much of a talker but if ya need to offload, I'm right here.”

“Thank you,” you say, the ghost of a smile on your lips. “Guess I need to learn how you manage to take so many hits and keep going.”

“I don't think I'll be goin' much longer,” Frank sighs. “I'm worn out. I'm done. I ain't never gonna walk normally again. Old wound in the foot and now a new one in the leg.”

“Maybe I should take you to the vets and see if he'll put you down,” you joke. “Trade you in for a fresher model.”

Frank genuinely laughs, “You ain't gettin' rid of me that easy. Sorry, darlin', you're stuck with me now.”

“What a terrible shame,” you say, managing to finally smile.

Frank leans over and kisses you lightly on the lips, holding it there for a long time before pulling away. He looks as if he wants to say something to you but is fighting with himself.

“What is it?” you ask, searching his eyes.

He caresses your cheek gently before holding your face.

“Shit,” he breathes, steeling himself up for the words he's about to say. “You really scared me, darlin'.”

“I did?” you ask bewildered.

“I really thought I was gonna lose you for a while there,” he mumbles.

“I thought I was a goner too,” you admit. “Woke up in this place and thought I'd gone to some afterlife.”

Frank tenses slightly before leaning over you further and placing his forehead against yours, “The second I saw you on that carousel...it was like relivin' it all over again....Maria, Lisa, my little Frankie....fuck....”

You feel something wet slide down the side of your forehead and realise Frank is crying. Shit. What should you do? Frank had never opened himself up this much to you before. He'd always been the one to stay strong, to keep that poker face going but now he was completely baring his soul to you, trusting you completely.

“Get in,” you say, patting the bed.

He doesn't do anything for a while and you feel he might be too afraid to pull away, to let you fully see him but eventually he lifts up and you scooch across slightly, allowing him room. He lies side on on the bed and you turn on your side as well, placing your head above his and holding him close to your chest.

“If I'da lost you too I woulda lost my goddamn mind completely,” Frank whispers against you. “You've been the only thing keepin' me goin'. So many times I wanted to give up, walk away, die even but you....you believed in me.”

“Still do,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

“Even after all the shit you've been through 'cause of me?” he asks, uncertainty in his voice.

“I told you back at the hideout, Frank. I chose the hill I wanted to die on,” you say firmly. “That hasn't changed just because I got kidnapped and it hasn't changed just because I got stabbed. You've helped me as well you know. More than I've ever told you.”

“I have?” he says, moving away from your body slightly to look up into your face. You take the opportunity to wipe away the tear tracks from his cheeks.

“Yeah. All those nights in the library. I only ever went there when I had shitty cases: domestic violence, rape, murders, anything involving kids. You helped me deal with that, even if you didn't say anything to me at the time.”

“But I made your life a shit show after those days,” Frank grumbles.

“And you saved me, you gave me back my will to fight....even if you did almost drop me off of a roof.....and you've protected me.”

Frank's hand dips down and lifts up your hospital gown, exposing your gauze covered waist, “That ain't me protectin' ya. That's me failin' to protect ya. If I hadn't been so fuckin' thrown off by the place, that goddamn music...”

“Frank, look at me,” you say firmly and he begrudgingly meets your gaze. “If you think for one minute I'm going to blame your post traumatic stress for what happened, you're a fucking moron.”

He blanches slightly, looking at you like he doesn't quite believe what you were saying, like he was expect you to lay into him for getting hurt.

“I...” he starts but he doesn't quite know how to finish the sentence.

“Am I alive?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

“Did we kick the shit out of Russo and scar him for life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you love me, Frank?”

“You know I do,” he says, nuzzling into you slightly.

“Then who the fuck cares about anything else,” you sigh. “Can you just be happy that we made it? I think we've done enough of the angsty torturing ourselves bullshit.”

“You're right,” he says, stroking your arm. “You're right, Byrne. We're survivors.”

“Good, now kiss me Frank Castle,” you demand, taking his chin and pulling his face up to yours.

“Yes, Ma'am,” he smiles, obeying your order.

The door opens and you both break apart, instinctively looking for the danger.

“Holy shit, you guys are ok!” Micro cries, smiling widely.

“Lieberman, you got shit timin',” Frank growls against you.

“Yeah....Sarah always tells me that as well,” he laughs sheepishly before coming up to the bed. You half expect Frank to return to the chair next to you but he stays lying down, his arm wound protectively over you.

“I can't believe it,” Micro sighs. “It's over.” He reaches the bed and looks down at you, smiling fondly. “Hey Byrne.”

“Hey nerd,” you reply and you feel Frank snort next to you.

“Nerd?” Micro huffs, the smile fading. “Really? You hack my computer and I'm the nerd? Shit, what did I say, Frank? I knew she would have some insult ready.”

“What can I say, I'm a creature of habit,” you smirk before that turns into a genuine smile.

Micro shakes his head, laughing slightly before handing over a newspaper to you, “Thought you might like to see that.”

You take it in one hand, unfurling it with a flick of the wrist before holding it up for you and Frank to read.

Punisher Cop Hailed a Hero in Undercover Sting  
Officer Byrne, formerly condemned in the public eye for an alleged relationship with notorious serial killer, Frank Castle, was today confirmed to be at the head of a government collaborative undercover sting operation against Anvil CEO, William Russo. According to Homeland Security, Frank Castle was a close associate of Russo's during several tours of the Middle East and was a key source in making the operation a success. Following a shoot out at the fairground in Central Park, Officer Byrne was stabbed by Russo trying to protect a Homeland Security agent and is expected to make a full recovery. Several witnesses at the scene state Frank Castle was shot during the crossfire and killed.

“That's not how any of that happened,” you say, slightly annoyed. “What hack journalist wrote this?!”

“Don't you see?” Micro says, excitement on his face. “Homeland spun it so you're name is in the clear. Sure they get to wash their hands of all involvement but don't you get what it means? It means you can go back to your job. You're no longer under suspicion.”

“I....wait, what?” you ask. “Really?! I can go back?!”

“Yeah!” Micro cries.

You turn to Frank and he's smiling broadly, “I'm real happy for you darlin'.”

There's a knock at the door and you all turn in that direction. A woman strides in, all business and no fun. She gives off a very 'high up the chain' vibe.

“Mr Castle, Miss Byrne,” she says curtly. “May I speak with you a moment? Mr Lieberman, I won't be needing your presence. You can go now.”

Micro looks at her before looking back at the two of you and slinking out of the ward after saying, “I'll be outside.”

“My name is Marion James, I'm the deputy director of the CIA. First and foremost, we'd like to thank you for your services. Second, we humbly apologise for William Rawlins. We did not condone his actions on American soil and we view his orders in Kandahar as tantamount to war crimes. However, for obvious reasons, we will not speak of him again.”

“So you're just going to sweep it under the rug?” you say flatly.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Marion fires back, equally as deadpan. “We'd appreciate it if you never spoke of it either considering we're helping you rebuild your life Miss Byrne.”

“And what about Frank?” you ask. “I mean you technically killed him off.”

“Frank Castle may be dead but Pete Castiglione is a free man,” Marion says pointedly.

You look at Frank bewildered. Who was Pete?!

“Changed my name after everyone thought I was dead the first time,” he explains to you. “Castiglione was my parents' surname.”

“God, I'm really not going to find it easy calling you Pete,” you sigh and Frank squeezes your hand affectionately.

“Then we're done here,” Marion says dismissively, not appreciating the fact you were talking amongst yourselves. “Thank you again for your service.”

“Wait!” you call after her and she stops and turns around. “What about Russo's mole in the Hell's Kitchen precinct?”

“Excuse me?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

“You got him right?” you ask.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she says, walking back to the bed. “Is there something further I should know?”

“Russo had a contact in the police force who was watching me.”

“Tell me his name,” Marion says firmly, whipping a pen and paper out of her blazer.

“I'm not a hundred percent sure but I had strong suspicions it was James Kirkman. He was a supposed transferee.”

“I'll liaise with the chief of Police,” she says. “I want no loose ends.” With that, she strides out with purpose.

You turn back to Frank, “Last thing I need is to go back to work and have him still being there. He could be capable of anything.”

“You didn't hafta tell her,” Frank says. “I coulda taken care of him.”

“What happened to, 'I'm done'?” you joke.

“I'm only done when you ain't in danger no more,” he says seriously.

“And now I'm not,” you point out. “I'm sure the CIA can handle one fake cop.”

“CIA couldn't handle their way outta a paper bag,” Frank hisses, pulling you closer to him and laying his head against your chest once more, listening to your heartbeat. “I gotta take Lieberman home but I don't wanna leave ya.”

“I'll be ok for a couple of hours, Frank,” you say. “Go.”

“I could just get him a cab,” Frank mutters, relaxing to the sound of your heart.

“Don't be a shitty friend,” you say, tapping him lightly on the forehead. “Take him home.”

“Promise me you'll be safe,” he says.

“Promise,” you reply.

Frank pulls away before kissing you hard, almost like he's afraid you're going to vanish. You have to continually assure him you'll be ok with every step he takes towards the door until finally he leaves.

You take the opportunity to fall back asleep now that silence has descended again.

 

**

 

Frank pulls up outside the Lieberman home.

“You ready?” he asks, turning to his friend.

“No,” Micro says honestly. “Feels weird, like I'm a stranger. I've been gone a year. Can I really just slip back in like everything is normal?”

“You're never gonna know unless you go in,” Frank says.

Micro breathes in and out slowly, trying to prepare himself, “You're right. Hey....uh....do you wanna come in for dinner?”

Frank mulls it over, deep in thought, “I appreciate it, Lieberman, I really do but I gotta get back to my girl, she needs me. This whole thing, it's gonna fuck her up a lot and I gotta be there for her.”

“You're a good man, Frank Castle. I'm glad to have known you, I hope everything works out with you and Byrne. I really want you to be happy,” Micro smiles before giving Frank a tentative hug across the car seats and getting out. He walks to the front door and turns around briefly, giving a small wave before going inside.

Frank leans back in the driver's seat. He felt uneasy, like there was still something coming. But it was over, right? So why was he feeling this way? Maybe he was just not used to the feeling of peace. He'd been fighting a war for so long, did he even know how to be normal now? What happens now the gunfire's over?

“Shit,” he curses to himself, tapping the steering wheel anxiously.

He does a u-turn in the street and starts driving back to the hospital.

No, something was definitely still not right. There was one last loose end and it was bugging him. It was time to tie that off. As much as you believed the CIA would handle things with Kirkman, Frank knew better. Any man of Russo's would be expecting repercussions right now and a cornered man was a dangerous man. Frank highly suspected Kirkman to be on the run already and maybe even looking to retaliate. You were not safe still and Frank was gonna change that.

No loose ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly got two more chapters to write after this one....maybe I'll do three. We'll see how it goes. The smut will return at some point as well but for now, there is fluff and angst as usual!


	11. Silence in the Suburbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're having to adjust to life post-Russo and Frank is there to help you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so maybe I'm gonna do another chapter more than I thought haha.
> 
> Smut warning and a lot of fluff!
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave kudos, comments etc. it lets me know if I'm doing ok! Thanks to my regular commenters/readers <3
> 
> \- TLP x

Your days ahead are spent in utter boredom. It'd been around three weeks since the showdown with Russo and the doctors were adamant you stay and recover. You'd tried to discharge yourself a number of times but as one particular nurse pointed out, the CIA was footing the bill so why not make the most of it?

You craved the visiting hours most of all because that's when Frank would come. Every single day, without fail he spent the entirety of the allotted time with you, keeping you occupied. Sometimes he read his latest book out loud to you and you loved seeing how much he would get into it, even doing silly voices sometimes to try and make you smile. He also smuggled you in tiny weights because you complained you were wasting away in the hospital bed, although he made a point of ordering you not to overdo it.

“Frank?”you asked on one particular day, seeing his attention move to his phone and his face screwing up in annoyance.

“S'nothing, darlin',” he said, tucking the phone back in his jeans pocket.

“Sure doesn't look like nothing,” you say pointedly.

“S'fine,” he says quickly before pulling out some chocolate from his bag. “Hey, thought you might be sick of hospital food.”

“You're changing the subject, Frank Castle but fine, I'm not going to say no to candy. The food here tastes like regurgitated shit,” you say, taking the bar and eyeing him suspiciously.

Frank sighs, laughing slightly, “Lieberman's right, I shoulda never got with a cop. Nothin' gets past you, huh girl?”

“Nope,” you say, taking a bite of the chocolate and savouring the way it melts on your tongue. “So spill. What's got you angry?”

“Lieberman's been hacking the CIA network. Kirkman's still in the wind,” Frank says, leaning back and running his hands through his, now longer, hair.

“Don't go looking for him,” you say sternly. “It's done.”

“It ain't done,” Frank mutters darkly and you see his leg bouncing up and down in agitation. “Fuckin' bastard's still out there.”

“He's not likely to come back to New York,” you say, reaching over and putting your hand on his leg to stop the movement. “Everyone's looking for him. His poster is in every precinct.”

“Byrne, I really don't like it. Somethin's gonna happen,” Frank says, and you can see that haunted look in his face. “I can feel it.”

“What, so you're psychic now?” you scoff, trying to lighten the mood. “Frank, listen to me, it's fine. He's gone, please stop worrying about that and worry about what accent you're going to start _Rebecca_ in.”

Frank snorts, looking at the book in his hands, turning it over and reading the back, “Sounds fancy. Maybe I'll treat ya to my shitty British accent.”

“Bring it on,” you smile.

“ _Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again_ ,” Frank starts and you howl with laughter for the rest of the time he's allowed to stay in the ward at his terrible impressions.

“Mr Castiglione?” a nurse says, poking her head in the door. “Visiting hours are over now.”

“Looks like I gotta go, darlin',” Frank sighs, putting away the book and kissing you gently on both the lips and the forehead.

“You gonna pick me up tomorrow?” you ask.

“'Course I am,” Frank smiles. “I'm just happy you're gettin' out.”

“Me too,” you smile back.

 

**

 

Frank drives from the hospital to the Lieberman home as he's done every time for the past three weeks. Micro meets him at the door and ushers him in, into his office upstairs.

“It's still the same, Frank,” Micro says, gesturing to the screen. “No APB hits, no CCTV sightings, this guy is good.”

“He ain't as good as me,” Frank growls. “He's gonna fuck up one day soon.”

“Frank,” Micro grimaces. “This guy is a mercenary AND ex-police.”

“For fuck's sake, Lieberman, just tell me you got somethin'!” Frank half shouts. “My girl is gettin' out tomorrow!”

“Byrne's leaving the hospital?” Micro asks, smiling. “Oh man, some good news for once.”

“And I don't want this piece of shit prick to darken our door.”

“How is the house, by the way?” Micro says, turning around in the chair.

“Quiet,” Frank responds tersely.

“You finish that...uh...project you been working on?”

“Got it done last night, now can you answer my damned question?”

“'Scuse me for making small talk,” Micro mutters a little bitchily. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I did find something. Looks like James Kirkman is not James Kirkman.” He pulls up a tab on the screen. “This is from the deep web, specifically a mercenary and hitman job site. With his computer skills and the Anvil connection I knew he'd probably be on either one of these sites or a black hat one. Observe.” He clicks one of the adverts and points to the username. “See that? ' _Starboy66_ '”

“Is that supposed ta mean somethin'?” Frank says, his eyes wide.

“Jesus, what did you watch as a kid?! James Kirkman, _Starboy66_. Original Star Trek aired in 1966 with Captain-”

“James Kirk. I get it now,” Frank finishes, nodding emphatically. “You sure this is him?”

“See this is where he slips up,” Micro says, the excitement rising in face as he turns back to the screen and switches to another tab. “He's used that username before.”

“Sonovabitch,” Frank laughs. “Not so smart.”

“Nope,” Micro nods. “Now this is on a general forum from back in the early 2000s but I was able to get into the registered users section on the site and get the email for that username. That email contained a name, Sam Walker. I looked that up in the social security database and bam.” He emphatically presses the enter key and an old military service picture comes up.

“Second lieutenant Samuel Walker. Served in the Middle East on three tours and was dishonourably discharged for assaulting a senior officer,” Frank reads.

“And then...” Micro continues, flicking the tab. “He pops up in Bolivia as a bodyguard for a drug ring. This guy's dangerous, Frank. Maybe even more so than Russo in a square fight. He knows guerilla warfare strategies.”

“Yeah, well so do I,” Frank growls.

“It's not much but at least you know your enemy now,” Micro says. “I hope that helps a little.”

Frank sighs, “It's useful but I still don't know where he is. Could be ten thousand miles away, could be down the street.”

“I'll keep you posted,” Micro says, patting Frank's arm affectionately. “Go home, Frank. You need your rest. It's a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah you're right,” Frank says, shaking the raging thoughts from his mind. “I'll see ya, Lieberman.” With that, he begins walking out.

“Say hi to her from me,” Micro calls.

 

**

 

It was today. Today you were finally getting out. You had to admit you were pretty scared, I mean, you didn't exactly have a home to go back to any more. Frank had kept assuring you he'd got it covered and you just had to trust that.

Frank arrives at the hospital with a bag of clothes for you and you pull the sweatpants on before noting that he'd given you one of his big t-shirts to wear. You look up at him, tugging on the neckline.

“Still marking your territory, huh?” you say, with a smirk.

“Don't know what ya mean,” Frank says with a slight smile before coming to hug you gently. “Time to go, darlin'.”

You walk out with him, your legs still feeling weak from the restricted movement plan you've been on but he holds your weight against him, supporting you all the way. You climb into the car and he starts the engine. _We Built this City_ immediately blares out of the speakers and you laugh.

“Thought you might like that,” Frank smirks before pulling out of the hospital lot and driving off.

“So where are we going?” you ask.

“Relax, girl, you'll see,” is all Frank will commit to.

“Fine,” you say poking your tongue out and he just chuckles to himself. “Be like that.”

You drive out of the city centre and into some leafy suburbs. It's only about twenty minutes out from the metropolis but everything is lush and verdant. You see impeccable lawns, big porches and children playing out in the street. Frank pulls up onto the drive of a family sized home with blue panelling.

“This is us,” he says.

“Us?” you ask in amazement.

Frank seems to bite his lip, like he's made a mistake, “Shit, I shoulda waited to say that until we got in.”

“You mean this is...our house?” you say.

Frank looks incredibly shy as he shifts in his seat, “I mean...if ya want it ta be? I got enough to get a place o' my own if ya don't wanna-”

“I love it,” you say smiling and Frank flashes the widest lopsided grin. “Let's go inside! I want to see it!”

“You're cute,” Frank chuckles. “Come on then.”

You both get out of the car and Frank unlocks the door. He takes you around, pointing out the kitchen full of baking aids for you, the living room with it's big comfy sofa, the gym area stocked with equipment, the guest bedroom and the master bedroom. He shows you that he retrieved your last remaining possessions from the hideout and brought them here, even that he washed the smell of smoke out of your clothes. You're pretty overwhelmed. Frank did all this for you?

“And now the best part...well I hope,” Frank says, holding out his hand and you take it lightly. He takes you to another room and he stops you, holding his hands over your eyes. “Ok, walk in....and.....open them!”

You gasp in awe as you see the library room. It's stocked with old classics, modern novels, plays, poetry and he's even found the same kind of beanbags you both used to sit on at the library.

“Shit, Frank, I'm gonna start bawling in a second,” you say, your hand over your mouth.

“You like it?” he asks, apprehensively.

“What do you think, you idiot?” you laugh before hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Just wanted to see ya smile,” Frank murmurs into your hair.

“Can I thank you in a special way?” you say, breathing heavily into his ear. A different need was taking over your body right now as you pressed against Frank. “I mean it's been a while.”

“Darlin',” Frank rumbles. “Don't start that. You ain't ready for that yet.”

“Says who?” you say defensively, letting your hand run down the front of his chest.

“Says me,” Frank growls.

“Stop me then,” you say provocatively, letting your hand trail down below his abdomen. You hear Frank utter a low groan.

“Byrne,” he hisses in warning. “Darlin', I know you're excited but you just got outta the hospital and.....” You roughly palm him through his jeans. “....Oh fuck.”

“Sorry, what was that?” you smirk, knowing you were winning this particular fight.

“You're a fuckin' tease,” Frank rumbles. “You ain't makin' this easy for me.”

“I know my own limits, Frank,” you say, starting to unbuckle his belt. “Do you trust me to stop if it gets too much?”

“Mmhmmm,” is all the response you get as you delve your hand inside his boxers, grasping his cock firmly. He lets you stroke him for a little while, his hands coming into your hair and around your waist before he pulls away, picking you up. You wrap your legs around him and he starts walking into the master bedroom before letting you fall onto the mattress and crawling on top of you. “Think we should break this bed in, huh girl?”

“Uh huh,” you moan as his hands come under your shirt, lightly touching your breasts.

Frank gets impatient and begins tugging off your sweatpants before finally pulling off your t-shirt and he freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over your scar.

You look away, slightly embarrassed, “It's ugly, right?”

“Byrne,” Frank calls softly but you don't want to look at him and see the revulsion in his face. When your last name doesn't work, he uses your first name and you look back in surprise. “Nothing about you could possibly be ugly, darlin'.”

He bends his head down, lightly kissing the raised pink flesh and you shudder a little. His head comes back up towards yours and he makes a point of nodding towards the slight scar on your neck. “That on the other hand I'm gonna have to do somethin' about. I ain't havin' Russo leave two marks.”

You snort, pushing him playfully in the chest and he laughs.

“Oh you think I'm kiddin'?” he says, amused. “Just you wait 'til you're healed up, girl. I'll make sure everyone knows you're mine.”

You felt heavy throbbing between your legs upon that remark and Frank seems to notice it because he chuckles darkly, hooking his fingers into your underwear and pulling them off. Finally, he takes your bra off, mouthing at your hardened nipples.

“I've missed you, girl,” he growls into your chest.

“Missed you too,” you breathe back, your hands running through his hair.

He pulls back, whipping his shirt off quickly before letting his jeans fall to the floor and his boxers soon after. He comes back to lie over you, his weight supported on his elbows as he kisses you deeply.

“I'm gonna be real gentle, ok? You want me to go slower or faster you just say,” Frank whispers against you.

He pushes into you and you hiss at the sensation. It's been a while since you and Frank last had sex and it's taking a bit of time to get used to him again. He holds himself there, not moving until he's sure you're fully ready before he starts a languid rhythm. You lose yourself in the sensation of having him close, your hands running over his back as he slowly rolls his hips. You can tell he's having to fight with himself to be gentle. Gentle was not Frank's style but fuck was he still good at it. He was almost methodical as he changed angle ever so slightly so that his pelvis rocked against your clit.

Shit, you couldn't take this teasing any more.

“Faster,” you pant and you catch the slight smirk on his face as he immediately obeys, starting to properly thrust into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out, your head lolling back.

“Atta girl,” Frank chuckles. “You let it out. We ain't got no neighbours close.”

“Give me something to scream about then,” you say, provoking him and he grunts, hooking his hands underneath your shoulders to keep you steady before ramming hard into you.

“Frank!” you yell in surprise.

“Still want it like that?” he asks, his eyes dark with arousal.

“Yeah,” you nod and he picks up his pace, slamming into you. He makes a point of leaning to one side so as not to aggravate your scar, however.

“Come on, girl, I wanna hear ya,” he growls, pulling all the way out and pushing back in with brutal force. “I've fuckin' missed when you scream my name.” He lets go of one of your shoulders, bringing his hand down in between you, still keeping his rough pace whilst he teasingly glides his fingers across your clit before pressuring little circles into the small bud.

You feel the crest of the wave forming in your body before he lets his hand drift away and you grunt in frustration. He just gives you a shit eating smirk.

“Fuck, don't stop, please!” you beg.

“You mine, girl?” he asks, ghosting his fingers across your folds and you're practically a whimpering mess.

“Yes.”

“Say it darlin',” he chuckles as he thrusts into you with sheer ferociousness.

“I'm yours, Frank,” you babble in your daze.

“Good girl,” he smiles before returning his fingers to you in that delicious pattern.

Your orgasm builds and you half scream as it wracks your body, making all your muscles tense. The scar hurts like fuck but you don't care. You're too lost in the pleasure.

Frank slows his pace down, his own breathing becoming ragged. “Where?” he asks and you know exactly what he means.

“Keep going,” you pant.

“Sure?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah.”

He thrusts hard a few more times before you feel his hand squeeze your shoulder and his whole body tense up as he spills himself into you. You can feel the flood of warmth inside.

You both lay there, regaining your breath and he presses his forehead against yours affectionately. He finally pulls out, rolling onto his back and motions for you to cuddle into him. You manage to make your limbs work again and rest your head on his chest.

“Shit, darlin', you're somethin'” Frank laughs and happily stretches his legs out with a contented grunt. “Ain't nobody broken your spirit, huh?”

“Fuck no,” you say, earning another snort from Frank. “You know me.”

“Yeah I do,” Frank chuckles. “Most badass, warrior woman I know with plenty a' filth thrown in for good measure.”

“Filth huh?” you say teasingly, poking his ribs. “I prefer to say natural sex appeal.”

“That works too,” Frank laughs. “You nervous about tomorrow?”

You think it over for a while. Tomorrow you went to collect a replacement uniform from the Precinct and it'd be the first time you'd been back there in a good month or so.

“You know what, no, I'm not nervous,” you say finally. “I'm actually excited to be getting back to normal a little bit.”

“That's my girl,” Frank says, kissing the top of your head. “Now I believe we had a book date with the other Mrs DeWinter.” He grabs the novel from the nightstand and uses one hand to flick to the page you were on.

 

**

 

The next morning you awake to an amazing smell. Frank's no longer in the bed...well I mean you had stayed there the entire day yesterday just laughing and joking.

You get up, pulling on some clothes and walk into the kitchen to see Frank cooking.

“Morning,” you call and he turns around smiling.

“Morning darlin'. You want pancakes?”

“Stupid question,” you grin and set yourself down at the kitchen table.

After you'd finished your breakfast, Frank drives you to the police station, still in the habit of pulling his hood over his head.

“Now, you get into any trouble, you call me ok?” he says seriously, handing you a smartphone. “I'm saved under Pete.”

“Man that's still so fucking weird,” you say shaking your head.

“I know, girl, it'll take a while to get used to,” he smiles. “Now go on, I'll pick you up later.”

You kiss him goodbye and go to the door, hesitating for a second before walking in. The whole office falls silent immediately as you move into the centre of the room. Oh shit. Maybe they still believed the old headlines. Your sergeant walks out of his office, coming to stand near you with his arms folded.

“What the shit is this, Byrne?” he says aggressively and you feel your insides drop before he continues on. “You didn't get us any cake to celebrate you coming back?”

The whole room erupts into raucous laughter and you breathe a huge sigh of relief.

“You're a fucking asshole, you know that?” you say and he just chuckles before giving you a hug.

“Welcome back, sweetheart. Now let's get you set up again.”

You walk into his office after several of your old colleagues pat you on the back as you walk, muttering their delight in having you back. You get your uniform and you just let your hands run over the threads. God you'd missed that itchy uncomfortable shirt.

“I know you can't tell me what happened fully,” your sergeant starts, “But I'm glad you're alright. That was quite a hell of a scare you gave us all when that picture came out.”

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously. “I can see how that would've looked.”

“So am I gonna be losing you to Homeland soon?” he probes, leaning back in his chair.

“God no,” you snort. “Too dangerous for me.” You point to your waist.

Your sergeant nods before sliding over a shiny new badge, “Good to hear it, kid. Buckle up, you're out on patrol tomorrow.”

“Yes Sarge,” you smile, picking the badge up and fondling it gently.

 

**

 

The first few days go by without a hitch. You get sent to fairly easy jobs, some petty thefts, burglaries and a missing teenager. It feels like you'd never left.

The only difference is now you go home to your place in the suburbs and Frank is waiting for you. He goes to his meetings with Curtis during the time you're at work, trying to make sense of the last year and it makes you smile to know he's trying so hard to get his life back to normal....even if you do have a suspicion he's still meeting up with Micro now and again about Kirkman.

You've just finished baking some brownies and you're having to fend Frank off from taking them straight out of the pan.

“Let them cool first!” you say earnestly. “You'll burn your mouth off!”

“They just taste better warm,” he says simply.

You just laugh to yourself,

“What?” he asks, holding his hands up.

“Just remembering what you said to me on the rooftop all those weeks ago,” you say. “Apple pie life with a white picket fence.”

“Well shit, girl,” he says, shaking his head and laughing. “I didn't know I was gonna go on and fall in love with ya. I didn't exactly plan fer that and I didn't expect to live through what we lived through.”

"Me neither,” you admit, putting the brownies on a cooling rack.

Frank comes up behind you putting his arms around you and kissing your cheek, “I'm glad we did though.”

You smile, closing your eyes and savouring his embrace until you feel his hand snake out. You open your eyes in shock to see him stuffing a brownie into his mouth and then breathing hard as he tried to cool his tongue down.

“I fucking told you,” you say in a sing song voice.

“Shit,” he breathes. “But it's so good.”

“You've got no one to blame but yourself, let them rest.”

“I got an idea of how to pass the time,” Frank says, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes and he picks you up and puts you on the counter top, pushing his body in between your legs.

“Tell me more,” you smirk.

 

**

 

You're on a double crewed patrol with Jimmy, one of the 'supercop' types in the Precinct. Jimmy had an alarmingly good rate of locking up and convictions and you were secretly thankful he was with you rather than one of the greener officers. You had worked up to your usual cases and having someone with experience was definitely welcome.

The radio crackles announcing an abandoned 911 call with a distressed male stating he'd just had his house broken into at gunpoint and he was tied up in his basement.

“Officers Allen and Byrne, we're close by, we'll check it out,” Jimmy responds before clicking the radio off. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling your shoulders out. “Let's do this. Gotta get back in the game sometime.”

Jimmy laughs, “Alrighty then, let's roll.”

He fires up the squad car and you go over to the address the dispatcher gave you. You do a quick check of your gun before getting out and both you and Jimmy walk to the door. Jimmy pounds on the wood before waiting and then trying the handle. The door swung open and you both cock your pistols ready.

Jimmy walks in first, doing a check of every room before you go the basement. You both push open the door and hear a muffled yell. Jimmy darts down the stairs and you follow after, making sure to switch on every light that you could as you descended. Jimmy had reached the bottom and he pressed on into the room before you heard his urgent yell snaking back to you,

“Byrne, stay where you are! Go call for back up!”

You freeze on the stairs, wondering whether to ignore him and go down or to follow what he says until you hear a loud gunshot ring out. Your ears are screaming from the sound. Fuck fuck fuck! What the fuck was that?!

You whirl around, ready to race back up the stairs but you hear the click of a round chambering close to your head and you don't move. You turn around slowly, your hands raised and look into the grinning, blood splattered face of Kirkman

 

“Hey partner.”

 

 


	12. Silence in the Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're trapped in the house with Kirkman and time is running out.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's officially 2am when I've finished this chapter so Merry Christmas everyone from the UK!
> 
> Prepare for violence, prepare for fluff, prepare for....well you'll see at the end....
> 
> Thank you again for all the kind comments, got another chapter planned and then I might open it up to something different.
> 
> Have a lovely day everyone!
> 
> \- TLP xx

“Drop your gun, Byrne,” Kirkman said calmly. “And trash your radio.”

You let the gun clatter to the floor, your mind racing through your possible options. No matter how many scenarios you went through, it always ended the same. Kirkman was just too close to you with his pistol and would fire a shot off quicker than you could get out of the way. Finally you let the radio drop to the floor before Kirkman stamps on it.

“And your tazer,” Kirkman added. “Just in case you thought I'd forgotten. Reach for it slowly.”

You cautiously drop your hand to your belt, unclipping the small device and letting it drop also.

“Good,” Kirkman smiles, picking it up and tucking it into his jeans. “Now come this way.” He gestures with his gun towards the basement landing.

You walk ahead, your hands raised up and you see the scene unfold before you. There's a man that you assume to be the actual homeowner. He's tied to a chair and he's slumped forward, blood slowly seeping from a bullet wound in his forehead. Was that the gunshot you heard? No, it couldn't be. This guy had almost bled everything out.

Your eyes scan until you see Jimmy sprawled against the wall. Shit! You start to run over but you hear Kirkman behind you.

“Uh uh uh, Byrne,” he says in warning.

“Have a fucking heart!” you half scream. “It's me you have the issue with, let me help him! He's got kids you bastard!”

“Calling me names isn't likely to curry favour, is it?” Kirkman tuts.

“Please!” you cry out.

Kirkman sighs, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, “Fucking bleeding heart liberals, fine, go to him but you toss me all of his weapons before you do anything. Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you say hastily, sliding across the floor to Jimmy's form.

You fumble with the clips of his holster, his belt and his pockets, pulling any offensive out and throwing it behind you.

“That's it,” you call back.

Kirkman comes behind you, pressing the barrel of the pistol into the back of your head, “If you're lying to me, I'm going to make this soooo painful for you, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” you hiss and he takes a step backward, gun still trained on you.

You check Jimmy's pulse. He was still alive! You look over his injuries. He seemed to have taken a round to the shoulder, likely he wouldn't be able to use his arm but at least it didn't sound like it'd hit anything vital. His breathing was normal, if not a little uneven. You assumed with the force of the impact he'd knocked himself out against the wall.

“Satisfied?” Kirkman said in a bored voice.

“You didn't kill him,” you murmur, realising that very important fact.

“See this is why you were a shitty partner, you never communicated,” Kirkman laughed coldly. “If you'd of asked, I would've told you. No, I didn't kill him but there's a reason why.”

You look up as understanding floods your mind, “He's leverage.”

Kirkman nods, “So you're gonna be a good little girl and obey, otherwise I'll unload this into his fucking face. Now, untie the guy over there and use the ropes on your buddy.”

You sit there for a moment, too overwhelmed to move until he growls at you, pressing the barrel of the gun against your forehead. You stand, glaring hatefully at him before walking past and to the corpse on the chair. You untie the knots, letting the body thump to the floor. You swallow back the bile rising in your throat.

You briefly make a tap at your chest and feel the hard shape of your phone that you hide in your bra. Thank fuck that was still there. Davies used to call you crazy for doing that but you were insistent that all it took was a good fight with a perp and it'd be out of your trouser pocket quicker than you could say 'Stop, police.” If you could hunch over for long enough, you could call Frank.

“Getting really tired of waiting here, partner,” Kirkman called and you quickly let your hand fall from your shirt, grabbing the ropes and walking back.

You tie Jimmy up as loosely as you think you can get away with. Once your done, Kirkman grabs the collar of your shirt, yanking you backwards and shoving you so you land on the chair, almost tipping it backwards with your weight.

“Now you and I are gonna have a little talk,” Kirkman said, stalking over to you and standing in front of you.

“Then spit it out,” you hiss.

“Honestly, Byrne, you coulda just let me walk away. There was no need to rat my name out to the CIA, Homeland and fuck knows what other government types. After Russo, I was just gonna cut my losses and go. No skin off my nose. I had my payment and that was it but fucking no.....you just had to go on and do that.”

“What do you want?” you growl. “A fucking pity party?”

He flips the gun around so the butt is facing you and brings it down hard against your face. You feel the blood well up in your mouth and you spit it onto the floor before it bursts down over your chin.

“I want you to shut the fuck up,” he snarls. “You see this gun? This means I'm fucking talking.”

You keep silent. God if what he was saying was true, why didn't you just keep your mouth shut? You could've just got on with your life.

“Yeah, exactly,” Kirkman says smugly, “You're getting it now, huh? Sweetheart, you've got no one to blame but yourself. So you're going to understand this is just business.”

He draws the gun back up to your face.

“And what about him?” you say, your eyes motioning to the side, towards Jimmy.

“Once I'm done with you, I've got no further drama with him. I'm fucking off to Venezuela. Cartels pay big money,” he shrugs. “Besides, not like anyone knows my real identity.”

Your mouth forms into an 'oh', “Your name isn't James is it?”

“No, although I appreciated you got the reference to my fake name. Maybe in another situation we could've been friends,” he muses. “Shame you had to be such a meddlesome bitch.”

You had to keep him stalling, keep him talking for long enough so that maybe you had a chance to call Frank.

“If you're gonna kill me, why don't you properly introduce yourself,” you say, laughing bitterly.

He regards you for a moment before finally replying, “Well hi there, I'm Sam. Happy now?”

“Sam, huh?” you say. “Thought you looked like more of a Brad.”

“Fucking Brad, really?” he scoffs. “Do I look like I'm on a football team?”

You see out of the corner of your eye, Jimmy stirring and Kirkman...well Sam, notices your gaze. Jimmy opens his eyes and sees you sat there at gunpoint.

“Byrne!” he calls, struggling against his bonds.

“It's alright, Jimmy,” you try to say soothingly.

“Hey, get away from her!” Jimmy spits, fighting to stand up.

“Or what? You'll wriggle me to death?” Sam says mockingly. “You're not in any position to do shit, cop. I can do whatever I please.”

He slams the side of the gun into your head again but with more force this time and you crash to the floor with the impact.

Jimmy's radio crackles into life, “Officers Allen and Byrne, report please, over.”

You and Jimmy both look in horror at each other. Shit. This was very very bad. If you didn't respond, back up would be called and this would be a fucking bloodbath.

“I repeat, please report, over.”

Sam grabs you by the hair, forcing you to crawl over to Jimmy. He shoves the barrel of the pistol under your chin, “Answer it. You say anything and your partner here gets a front row seat to your brain fireworks show.”

You stretch out a hand, unclipping the radio and clicking the button, “Officer Byrne, house search negative. With the occupant now, show state eight with Allen, taking statement now. Over”

“Yes yes, shown state eight. Over.”

You click the radio off and Sam takes it from your hands, dashing it against the wall and showering both you and Jimmy with the components.

“Good, so you can listen to directions,” Sam sneers.

There's a noise from upstairs and you all look to the ceiling. Oh no...your heart drops. You hoped that wasn't a relative of the dead guy.

“John, honey, they were out of mint Oreos,” a female calls. “I got double stuffed, hope that's ok! By the way, did you know there's a police car outside? I bet they're here for the neighbours and that no good pot smoking son of theirs.”

“Please don't,” you whisper to Sam but he just harshly shushes you.

“Honey?” the female calls again, this time sounding closer. “Are you tinkering with that shit down there again? You'd better not be dismantling the washing machine.”

Sam pulls some zip ties out of his bag and yanks your hands together, securing them tightly before doing the same to your ankles. Finally he runs another length of plastic through both bonds, keeping you stuck there. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “It's just business. You scream and I'll make her suffer. Keep quiet and it'll be merciful.”

Your eyes widen as he gets up and silently creeps up the stairs. You wait until his feet disappear through the door and curl up on the floor, using your knees to bring your tied up hands to your chest.

“Byrne, what the fuck are you doing?” Jimmy hisses.

“My phone, it's in my bra,” you answer quietly.

“Really?!” Jimmy breathes. “Shit, keep going.”

You push all thoughts out of your mind about the woman upstairs. You knew her fate was only going to end one way, just like her husband's. There was absolutely nothing you could do to save her so you shut off those emotions. If you lived through this you'd seriously need some fucking therapy.

You manage to unbutton your shirt, digging your hands into the lacy fabric and pulling out the phone. A gunshot rings out upstairs and you hear the woman's body hitting the floor. Fuck fuck fuck. You had seconds left before Sam returned. You rested the phone on your knees, unlocking it and dialling.

 

**Pete calling...**

 

Three rings went by and you heard footsteps coming closer. Fuck, Frank, pick up!

Five rings.

“Hey, darlin',” you hear Frank's warm voice on the other end.

“Frank!” you hiss quietly into the receiver.

“Everythin' ok?” he asks instantly alert.

You don't have time to answer. Sam is nearly at the door. You twist until you're upright on your knees and shuffle towards Jimmy. You grab the band of his trousers and work the phone into his boxer shorts. Jimmy doesn't protest but looks at you strangely.

“Frank?” he whispers. “Frank Castle?”

“Not the time,” you hiss aggressively.

“He called you darling,” Jimmy mutters. “So you actually _were_ hooked up with The Punisher.”

“Yes, I was,” you say, shrugging obnoxiously. “Now we live in a house in the fucking suburbs. Any more irrelevant questions because I'm trying to fucking save both of our lives here!”

“Just so you know,” Jimmy says quietly. “I actually admired his work so I never judged you.”

You look at Jimmy in complete surprise as Sam starts descending the stairs, “You did? But you're like a super cop, by the book, law above all else.”

“Law doesn't mean jack sometimes. The Kitchen Irish killed my sister and we couldn't do a damned thing about it because of red tape,” Jimmy mutters. “So I wasn't exactly crying when Castle wiped them out.”

“Getting cozy I see,” Sam laughs coldly as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “Well, you can pat yourselves on the back for giving that woman a quick death by not trying anything.”

“Why did you have to do this here?” you spit. “You could've done this somewhere abandoned. Why murder a family?”

“Because I simply don't give a shit,” Sam shrugs. “Makes it more fun for me watching you twist yourself up because you couldn't save them. Maybe I'll kill your partner next before I finish you off.”

“No!” you cry. “Leave him alone!”

He comes over to you, pulling out a utility knife and cutting the middle zip tie along with your ankle one before standing back. “Why don't you crawl over here and beg me not to, then?”

You feel pure disgust as you see his smug sadistic grin. He beckons you with a finger. You stay resolutely put.

“Oh, unless you want me to shoot him?” Sam says, raising the gun up.

You feel utterly humiliated as you crawl over to him with your bound hands. You stop by his feet, not looking up.

“Please don't kill him,” you say in a small voice.

“I can't hear you, Byrne,” Sam laughs harshly. “Honestly, you were so fucking loud out on patrol and now you can't even speak up.”

“Don't kill him!” you shout.

“Don't kill him....what,” Sam sneers.

“Please!” you cry out.

Sam grabs your hair, yanking your head backwards so you're staring into his face, “Still not convinced.”

Your mind is whirling. How long would you have to stall for until Frank found you? Would you have to....

“Please, I'll do anything, just don't shoot him,” you say earnestly, doing your best innocent wide eyes up at him.

“Byrne, no!” Jimmy calls.

“Anything huh?” Sam muses before backhanding you viciously sending you flying backwards. “That kind of seductive shit may have worked on Russo but not me, sweetheart. I'm not interested in a marine's sloppy seconds.”

He grabs you by the shirt collar, pulling you up towards his face, “We're going to play a little game. I call it...life or limb. I say a body part and you choose whether I shoot you in it or whether I cap your partner in the head.”

He points the gun at you, ignoring Jimmy's insults that he's hurling from across the room, “So Byrne....your upper arm or his life?”

 

 

**

 

 

“Frank!” you hissed into the phone.

Frank's stomach immediately dropped. You sounded terrified.

“Everythin' ok?” he asked, hesitant of the answer.

He didn't get a response but heard a lot of rustling and the muffled voices of yourself and a male. Shit.

“Frank?” Curtis asked as he was packing away the chairs from the meeting.

“Curtis, I need your phone,” Frank growled.

“Why, Frank, talk to-” Curtis began.

“Now, Curtis!” Frank barked. “Byrne is in danger!”

Curtis hurriedly fumbled in his jeans pocket and drew out his cell, tossing it to Frank who immediately dialled Micro's number that he had embedded in his memory.

“Um, hello?” Micro answered in an unsure voice.

“It's Frank,” Frank said. “Listen Lieberman, I got a call from Byrne. I think Sam Walker has come out of hiding. She's still on the line on my phone but she's ditched her handset. I need you to trace it.”

“Shit!” Micro swears. “You think Walker has her?”

“Fuckin' yes, Lieberman, now shut up and do it!” Frank yells into the phone.

“On it,” comes the reply.

Frank presses his cell to his ear, trying to make out what was going on. He heard another male shouting and the sound of you pleading with someone. Fuck....the sheer panic in your voice broke his heart. Hold on for me, darlin', he thought, I'm coming.

“Anythin'?” Frank says into the other phone.

“Narrowing it down, she needs to keep the line open a little bit longer. She's in the old Kitchen Irish territory.”

“Hurry it the fuck up, I don't think she's got much time,” Frank says desperately.

“Come on,” Curtis said. “Let's get in the car, ready.”

Frank walked out of the building, still holding the two phones and Curtis got into the driver's seat, turning on the engine and waiting with his foot hovering over the accelerator.

“Frank, I've got the street,” Micro says. “Penn Street. I've almost got the house.”

“Penn Street,” Frank grunts at Curtis and they set off, peeling out of the community centre lot.

Frank hears a sound on the other phone that makes his body freeze. Fuck....no...

A gunshot and the sound of you screaming.

“BYRNE!” he yells into the phone and Curtis instinctively steps on the gas, speeding through the back alleys.

 

 

**  
  


 

FUCK.

 

That's the only word you're repeating over and over in your head as you curl up over your left arm. The bullet had gone straight through at least and it hadn't shattered any bones but it was still an intense pain and the blood was seeping down your bicep.

“Wooo!” Sam whoops, laughing and smoothing his hair back. “Damn that felt good! You know they say revenge leaves a bitter taste but I'm fucking enjoying this. It's no less than you deserve for dragging me into this shit.”

“Maybe you shouldn't have been a fucking gun for hire then,” you hiss through the blinding pain.

“Now you see, just for that, we're moving onto round two. I was gonna give you a break for a little bit but you had to be a brat about it,” Sam laughs. “So, Byrne, your lower left arm or his life?”

“Just fucking do it!” you scream at him. “You pathetic wannabe soldier! Not good enough for the army huh so you had to be mercenary! Fuck, not even good as a cop either!”

 

Bang!

 

The round punches through your forearm and you let out a primal guttural groan. You were trying so hard not to pass out.

“You stupid bitch, I was a soldier,” Sam snarls. “And I was a better fucking one than your precious Castle.”

“You wish you were,” you hiss through your clenched teeth. “After you kill me you're gonna have to run to the ends of the earth because he will find you.”

“I think I can handle a near crippled ex-marine,” Sam laughed. “I heard Russo fucked him up real good.”

He moves towards you, using his knife to slice the last zip tie holding your wrists together and you immediately go to stem the blood flow on your arms.

“Don't want you dying too quickly,” Sam shrugs.

You rip your shirt into long strips with one hand and pull them tight around the entry wounds, wincing heavily as you do it.

“Byrne,” Jimmy says pleadingly. “Just stop antagonising him.”

“Listen to your partner,” Sam nods. “The more you fight back, the longer I spin this out. I'll give you about ten minutes until we start playing the game again. Kick back, I'll grab a beer.” He smirks horribly before walking upstairs and locking the door.

You scramble over to Jimmy, ignoring your half useless arm and dig into his pants to get the cellphone. It's still connected when you pull it out.

“Be quick, Byrne,” Jimmy whispers urgently. “He's gonna come back any second.”

“Frank,” you hiss into the receiver. “You there?”

“Byrne!” Frank practically shouts in your ear. “What the fuck...are you ok?! I heard gunshots!”

“It's Kirkman,” you say. “He put in a fake call to the cops. I'm on-”

“Penn Street, Lieberman is trackin' you. I'm on my way,” Frank says quickly. “Tell me you're ok, darlin', please.”

“I've taken two bullets to my left arm,” you grimace. “He's fucking insane, Frank. He's got my partner tied up and is making me choose between getting shot over and over or my partner getting killed.”

You hear Frank moving away from the earpiece to do some colourful swearing before he returns, “Can you get out?”

“No windows, we're in the basement,” you say hurriedly. “You'll see our patrol car outside the house.”

“Hang on for me, girl,” Frank growls.

“Trying to,” you laugh weakly. “I've got a few more limbs to go yet before he kills me.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck...we're not far away.”

“I gotta go, he's coming back,” you say dropping your voice to a low whisper and re-securing the phone back in its hiding place. You look up at Jimmy, “He's coming. He knows where we are.”

“Jesus, Byrne, he needs to get here soon. I can't watch you get shot up for me much longer,” Jimmy says, trying to stop himself from hyperventilating.

“Hey,” you say, placing your good hand on his shoulder. “I'm not losing another partner. I'm gonna get a reputation in the precinct for being cursed.”

Jimmy snorts despite himself, “Shit...if we make it out alive I'm gonna name my next kid after you.”

“I'll hold you to that,” you smile.

Your brief moment of levity is interrupted by heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Sam is holding a beer, swirling the liquid around in an idle way. He hits the landing and takes a long draw from the glass bottle.

“Much better. I gotta say it's been nice being on US soil again. The beer in South America was like drinking piss,” he says.

He goes to sit on the chair and watches you and Jimmy, huddled together against the wall with calculating eyes, “So....you've got six minutes left, Byrne before we start again.”

“You gonna give me a bit for the road?” you ask, nodding towards the bottle.

Sam looks at the bottle and back to you and you can see the cogs turning before he eventually answers, “Sure. Why not? You're gonna die soon anyway. Come over here, but crawl.”

“I can't crawl on one arm,” you say. “Just point the gun at me and let me walk.”

“You're spoiling my fun,” Sam says darkly. “I said crawl.”

You decide not to argue. Time was key here. The longer you could make the time in between him shooting you, the more chance Frank had to get here whilst you could still operate some of your limbs. You kneel on the ground and it takes you a long while to crawl over to him but eventually you get there. He doesn't give you the bottle when you hold out your hand.

“You've got a whole bunch of blood in your mouth,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Tip your head back and open up.”

He pours the liquid down into your open mouth and you swallow. The beer tastes fucking awful but at leasts it's something. Your tongue had felt pretty dry after all the screaming you've been doing.

“Nobody can say I'm not merciful at times,” Sam chuckles. “Two minutes. Back up a little.”

You shuffle backwards towards Jimmy and sit there, cross legged, just feeling the seconds tick away. All you can hear is the sound of Sam drinking. You're desperately listening out for any sound of Frank's arrival, hoping against hope he'd get here before you got shot again.

“One minute,” Sam says in a sing song voice, idly twirling the gun around by the trigger guard.

A commotion erupted upstairs and you heard the sound of doors being flung open.

“What in the shit...” Sam mutters, climbing to his feet.

The door to the basement burst open and you saw the opportunity. You jumped up to your feet, grabbing Sam's arm and twisting his wrist backwards so he dropped the gun. He yelped in surprise, pulling his fist back to punch you. You stayed where you were, kicking the gun away and just taking the hit full on. It didn't matter, as long as he was away from the gun, it didn't matter what happened.

Frank leaps down the stairs and you see Curtis following him. Sam makes a grab for you, trying to put you in between him and the two angry marines bearing down on him but you fall backwards, kicking out at his legs so he drops to the floor. You scramble away, hand reaching for the gun.

Sam springs to his feet, dodging Frank's tackle and ducking around to grab Curtis by the front of his t-shirt, slamming him backwards into the bannister. There's a worrying 'crack' as Curtis' head bounces off of the wood and he slumps to the floor. Sam whirls around, just in time to barge his shoulder into Frank's chest and the two men fall down, fists flying into each other's bodies.

Your fingers close over the gun and you turn back around, aiming but you can't get a clear shot without risking hitting Frank.

Frank headbutts Sam hard in the nose just as Sam drives his knee up into Frank's stomach and they both reel backwards wheezing hard, blood spilling onto the floor. Sam makes to get up but Frank's hand shoots out, grasping onto his jeans. Sam turns back, punching savagely into the freshly healed bullet wound in Frank's thigh and you hear Frank let out a low roar. Still he holds on.

Fuck! You still can't get a clear shot!

Sam reaches into his back pocket quickly and draws out your issue tazer, firing it straight into Frank's chest. Instantly Frank drops like a stone, his limbs twitching horribly.

“What do you think to your precious marine now, huh, Byrne?!” Sam shouts gloatingly over at you. “Like a fucking puppet on a string!”

Like a fucking coward, Sam lowers his body behind Frank's, hiding himself from you. You get to your feet, trying to change your angle but Sam draws out his utility knife and presses it to Frank's throat.

“I really wouldn't do that sweetheart,” he laughs. “You're gonna be a good girl now and toss that gun over to me, otherwise I'll open him up.”

You make a show of standing slowly, letting the arm that was holding the gun drop slightly as if in defeat. Frank's still dazed on the floor, the current still paralysing his muscles.

“That's it,” Sam coos. “Hand it over and I might just make this all quick and painless.”

You let the gun dangle by the trigger guard until he sat up slightly more with a hand outstretched. Fuck, this was going to be risky, you thought, but you had to try.

You suddenly flipped the gun back into a cocked position and fired before he had the chance to realise what was going on. Shooting from the hip was never a good idea and your aim was wildly off but the bullet still winged him in the shoulder, causing him to fall backwards. You quickly fire another shot off, but he dodges before it can reach him and he retreats away from Frank.

Slowly you walk up to him, mentally calculating. You had one bullet left and you knew exactly where that was going to go.

“Shit,” Sam pants, dragging himself backwards, away from you.

You just keep advancing on him until you have him backed up into the wall.

“Listen, you got me ok?” Sam laughed nervously. “Just put me in the cuffs and I'll plead guilty.”

“No,” you said coldly, keeping the gun trained on him.

“Byrne,” Frank's voice floated to you.

You ignored him. Enough of being pushed around, being shot, being stabbed, this ended now.

“You're a good cop, Byrne,” Sam said almost pleadingly. “You're not going to kill me. Do it by the book. I'll be put away forever.”

“I'm not gonna kill you, huh?” you say savagely. “Whatever gave you that fucking impression?”

Sam's face paled, “B-b-but the justice system?”

“Is broken,” you spit. “And I'm not letting you lounge in a comfy fucking jail cell after everything that you've done.”

You could see it in Sam's face, he was going to try and call your bluff, “Then fucking shoot me, Officer! Shoot me!”

“Byrne,” Frank groaned, as he got to his feet. “Darlin', let me do it.”

“Not this time, Frank,” you murmur. “This is my own fight, let me finish it.”

Frank walked over to you and saw the same grimness and resolve in your face that he wore on his own. He put a light hand on your good shoulder, “Alright, girl. You end it. I'm here with ya.”

“You're all talk,” Sam laughed. “You just keep talking but you won't actually-”

 

Bang!

 

The bullet rips through Sam's head and the blood starbursts on the wall behind him before he crumples limply to the ground.

Every single time you've shot someone in your job you've felt a twinge of remorse, guilt even but in that moment you felt absolutely nothing but pure hatred and relief. It was done.

“Byrne, give me the gun,” Frank says softly and you oblige. He tosses it somewhere and hugs you tightly. “It's over. He can't hurt you no more.”

You're almost working on autopilot as you push him off and say, “Go check on Curtis, I'll untie Jimmy.”

You don't look back to see his reaction. You're just keen to get out of this place. You undo the knots on the ropes and Jimmy rubs his hands, trying to get the blood flow black.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “You saved my life.”

“I take payment in the form of cake,” you say smiling slightly.

“I can do that,” he laughs before standing up and holding out a hand to you. You take it and he pulls you up.

Frank is waking Curtis up and you hear a bunch of muttering about 'getting old' and 'shouldn't be doing this shit any more'. You guessed they'd have a lot to talk about at their next group session.

“I'm gonna go call it in on the radio in the car,” Jimmy says hesitantly. “They might wanna leave soon.”

“I'm on it,” you say, walking over to the two men as Jimmy goes to disappear up the stairs.

“As much as I'm eternally grateful for the rescue, you're going to have to go. Once this gets called in the place is going to be swarming with cops,” you say.

“Yeah, I get that,” Curtis says rubbing his head.

You hug him as gingerly as you can with your wounded arm, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he sighs. “Just...promise me this is the end of it.”

“That's it,” Frank nods. “Walker was the last loose end.”

“Walker?” you ask, puzzled.

“Sam Walker,” Frank points to the body. “Curtis, I'll meet you in the car.”

Curtis leaves the two of you alone in the basement.

“You ok?” Frank asks gently.

“No,” you reply truthfully. “Wasn't what I was expecting when I came to work today.”

“I guess not,” Frank mutters. “I wasn't expecting that kinda phone call neither. You feel alright about...shootin' him?”

“It felt good,” you sigh. “Kind of like it was...final in a way.”

“I get that,” Frank muses. “Can I...hold you for a sec?”

Ever the gentleman, you think. He's gotta know exactly what kind of emotions were running through you right now. Half of you was wanting to curl up in a ball and cry and the other half was wanting to stay as far away from any human as you possibly could.

“Yeah,” you say and Frank embraces you once more, kissing the bruises on your face gently.

“I shoulda done more,” Frank murmurs against you.

“So you _were_ sneaking off to meet with Micro,” you laugh.

“'Course I was, girl. I was shit scared of Walker findin' the house,” he growls. “After all that shit with Russo, I just wanted ya to have peace for five goddamn minutes.”

“They were a good five goddamn minutes,” you whisper, letting your head rest against his chest.

“They sure were, darlin',” Frank said. “I just wish-”

“No,” you cut him off. “No 'what ifs', Frank. It's done.”

He lets a rumble move through his chest, “How many times I gotta be fuckin' scared of losin' ya, Byrne?”

“None after today,” you reassure him.

“I love ya, girl,” he says, letting his hand move through your hair and kissing your face gently. “And it's fuckin' terrifyin' and amazin' all at once.”

“I love you too, Frank,” you whisper. “Thank you for coming for me.”

“I'd go to the ends of the earth for you, darlin', you know that,” he whispers back.

You softly place your lips to his, savouring the small moment of normality. You so desperately wanted to go back home, to curl up on the bed, to have Frank read to you whilst you gently nodded off to sleep but you knew there was a fuck ton of questions you'd need to answer first and a shit ton of paperwork to go with it.

“Go,” you say gently. “I'll be alright.”

He steals one last quick kiss from you before going up the stairs and you hear the car engine start outside.

Jimmy comes back down, a bottle of water in his hand, “Sarge is on his way personally and the ambulance crew are en route also. They'll patch you up hopefully.”

“Just another scar, right?” you laugh, taking the water from him and gulping it down greedily. “I should stand naked in an art gallery with the amount that I have. Would be better than that abstract shit.”

“I'm sure people wouldn't come to see the scars,” Jimmy chuckles. “Listen, Byrne. I know you've been through a hell of a lot, and I'll admit I was wary when I was partnered up with you but you're fucking good at your job and if I was in your position, I would've shot the fucking prick too.”

“You gonna write that in your statement?” you smirk.

“Maybe a little more formally,” Jimmy laughs. “Shit, my wife is going to be your best friend after today, I hope you're prepared for that.”

“Fuck me, give me a chance to recover first,” you say, poking your tongue out.

The next few hours are a blur as most of the emergency services descend on the house. You're fussed into the back of an ambulance as the paramedic does some initial stitching.

“You're lucky,” she says. “Two through and throughs. You'll get to keep motor function too.”

“Yay for me,” you murmur.

A homicide detective takes your initial statement, asking so many monotonous questions that you have to fight to keep yourself from having an outburst. You just wanted to go home and after seeing the body bags of the two homeowners being carted out, you definitely wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.

Your sergeant seems beside himself as he harshly barks orders at the forensics team, the regular beat cops and the journalists starting to form around the convoy. He stalks over to you, taking in your injuries.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Byrne,” he sighs. “I should of never let you go back out whilst Kirkman was still on the run.”

“Hey, it's not your fault,” you say firmly. “If we didn't answer that call somebody else would've and they might not have been so lucky.”

“Jimmy says you saved his life,” he says. “In fact he wouldn't shut up about it.”

“I wasn't going to let another partner die,” you said simply.

“Still hurting about Davies, huh?” he says softly. “I'm putting you on sick leave, full pay and I'm getting our healthcare team to refer you for free therapy sessions. Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“Least I can do, kid,” your sergeant smiles back. “You did good. Now I'll get one of the rookies to drive you home. Get outta here. This is gonna be a media circus shitshow and you don't need to go through anything else.”

“Yes, Sarge,” you nod.

Your arm is full stitched up, wrapped up, sanitised and put in a sling. You felt ridiculous like this but the paramedic told you at least the bullet holes would heal well.

A young cop takes you back home in a patrol car. He seems too nervous to ask you anything and you're pretty damned grateful for that. You don't feel like talking right now.

When you pull up to the house, you thank the guy before darting to the door and waiting for the rookie to drive off before knocking. Frank opens the door cautiously, checking outside before letting you in.

“Was it bad?” he asks.

“The worst,” you reply. “I just wanna lie down.”

“Here, lemme help you get comfortable,” Frank says softly.

He rips the remainder of your shirt off, finding it too tricky to pull the fabric past your sling. He ushers you into the bedroom and you see the nightstand is full of candy and there's a huge pizza box waiting.

“Didn't think you'd be in the mood fer homecooked,” he says, fetching some pyjamas from the drawer.

“God, you know me so well,” you laugh.

“Hope so,” Frank says, giving you a lopsided grin. “Known you a long time now and I'm livin' with ya. Now come on, girl. Let's get you changed.”

He undoes your uniform trousers, yanking everything down and off, including your socks and bagging it. He slips you into some comfortable cotton pants before moving onto his next problem.

“Your bra...I'll buy you a new one,” he mutters before ripping that off you as well.

“Just buy shares in a lingerie store,” you joke. “It'd be cheaper the amount that you destroy.”

“I prefer it when I'm destroyin' them for a fun reason,” he smirks. “Hold up, I got an idea for a shirt.”

He goes into his own drawer, pulling out a baggy vest he sometimes wore for training. He tore the seams at the top, so you had nothing to put your arms through and then pulled it over your head before retying the shoulder straps together around the sling and on the other side.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yes,” you smile. “Now will you let me eat that pizza or do I have to tackle you out of the way for it?”

“You could just pay the regular toll,” he says grinning.

You reach up, kissing him and you sense him relax somewhat.

“Toll paid,” you say pulling back.

“Nah nah, you didn't do it right,” he chuckles. “Gonna need a repeat.”

“Frank,” you sigh in exasperation.

“Just kiddin', darlin',” he laughs. “Come on.”

He gets on the bed with you, pulling the pizza box onto his lap and stacking the pillows up so you can lie comfortably next to him. He picks out a slice for you and you gratefully take it, wolfing it down immediately.

“Byrne,” Frank says, kissing the top of your head. “If you choke on that, I'm gonna hunt you down in the afterlife.”

“Oh shush,” you hiss, already taking a second slice but you pause, putting it back down. “Is this it now, Frank? Are we actually gonna lead a normal life?”

“Yeah,” Frank says. “I think we are. No more Rawlins, no more Russo, no more Kirkman....Walker...whatever the fuck he went by.”

“I'm kinda scared,” you admit. “It's been so intense the last few months and now it's just....”

“I know, darlin', I know,” Frank murmurs. “I'm feelin' the same. We'll figure it out together, yeah?”

“Promise?” you ask. This was probably the closest you'd come to baring your deepest emotions to Frank. You usually let him do the talking.

Frank gives you a strange look, a look you've not really seen before. Was that...nervousness?

“Byrne, I don't feel good about you goin' back to cop work, but I know ya live and breathe it. Nothin' I say is gonna make you quit, right?”

“Right,” you nod, wondering where this is going.

“Would you....would you transfer to the neighbourin' precinct?” he asks.

“I don't really see why that would make a difference?” you say puzzled.

“Because nobody would know you there,” he says. “Nobody would really know me there once my beard grows out again. It'd be a fresh start for both of us.”

“I'm pretty sure my name has been plastered everywhere,” you remind him.

“So take mine,” he says quickly.

The silence that hangs there is deafening as you try to process what he just said to you.

“What...I...did you...huh?!” you stammer.

“I can get Red to give ya new paperwork,” Frank says equally quickly.

“So you want me to be....what...” you ask warily.

Shit, was he blushing?! You sat upright, looking directly at him but he avoided your gaze.

“Frank, look at me,” you say, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I don't know what you're asking me to do here.”

Frank sighs, placing the pizza box on the ground and taking your face in his hands, “Be a Castiglione. Ain't nobody gonna know who you really are then.”

“A Castiglione,” you repeat.

Frank growls in some unknown frustration, stroking his thumbs lightly over your cheeks, “Ahhh shit, girl, why do you make me so nervous sometimes?”

“Why nervous?” you ask, puzzled.

“'Cause it's not comin' out the way I wanted it to,” he hisses. “I ain't great at this sorta thing.”

You're really bewildered at what's going on but Frank seems to be incredibly awkward so you do the thing you know soothes him the most. You lean up and kiss his forehead gently, letting your lips linger for a while. He breathes in sharply before letting the air out slowly, calming himself.

 

“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling back from you and grabbing your hands. “Darlin', marry me.”

 


	13. Silence is Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you going to say yes to Frank?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I've said this like three times already but I've got one more chapter planned thus far.
> 
> This one contains mild angst and smut and copious amounts of tooth rotting fluff (Also mild PTSD references)
> 
> (If there's any mistakes, I wrote half of this at 3am and I'm sorry but I can't proofread when I'm tired haha)
> 
> \- TLP xx

Frank looks at your surprised face, nervously searching your expression, “Prolly shoulda led with that, huh?”

“Probably,” you breathe, you mouth hanging open slightly.

“Ah shit, you prolly think I'm only sayin' it to keep you safe, right? Fuck I shoulda done this somewhere different. Somewhere romantic n' shit. I'm a fuckin' idiot.” He needles his fist into his temple with agitated movements.

“Frank, calm down,” you say, pulling his hand away and squeezing it. “I was just surprised. I didn't think you'd ever ask that question of me.”

He seems a little conflicted for a time, “You don't think I love ya?”

“No no!” you say hastily, putting your hand on his face. “I just mean...well....Maria.”

And there it was. You'd put it out there. Your greatest fear. The perfect wife whose death always hung over you, making you feel like you could never live up to her name. You felt instant regret when the words left your mouth. You didn't want to remind him of his past and you sounded like a petty child.

“You know,” Frank starts after looking at you curiously for a time. “I asked Maria to marry me about three months in. We've been a thing for like..what..half a year? I'd say I've been takin' it slow. I ain't askin' you to pop out some kids for me in the next year, darlin'.”

You can't help but laugh, “I am so not ready for that. I need to get my muscles back.”

He lets out a small chuckle, “I really do love ya, Byrne. I gotta brand new life ahead of me and I wanna spend it with ya.”

You lay a gentle kiss on his lips before pulling back and smiling widely, “Yes I'll marry you, Frank Castle.”

“You will?!” he almost shouts and you see his face light up. “Darlin', you've made me a happy man.”

He hugs you as tightly as he can whilst avoiding your injuries and peppers your face with kisses.

“Ok ok,” you laugh. “Although you know this means you can't call me Byrne any more right? You'll have to use my first name or Castiglione.”

“Fuck that,” Frank snorts. “I'm still gonna call you Byrne. It's stuck in my head now. Castiglione is too long.”

“I suppose Castle is too?” you say playfully, shoving him in the shoulder.

“Nah, darlin', that'd be too weird,” he says wrinkling up his nose. “Almost like I was talkin' to myself.”

You just laugh and he presses his forehead against yours. It's amazing how much a genuine smile can change someone's features and Frank looks years younger as he grins.

“Shit, I almost forgot,” he says, shaking himself and jumping off of the bed. He goes over to his drawers, rummaging through the one containing socks until he finds something. He comes back, dropping to his knees at the side of you on the bed and holds up a small silver ring inlaid with a solitary pearl. “I get nervous and I forget how to do this shit properly.”

“It's beautiful, Frank,” you smile and he slips it onto your finger.

“Before you say, that ain't the one I gave Maria,” he hastily adds. “That's my grandma's.”

“Your..grandma's?” you say, overwhelmed that he'd chosen that one to give you. It felt very personal.

“She was a fierce woman,” Frank laughs. “She woulda liked ya. She always used to say 'Francis, you need a woman who ain't gonna put up with your shit'.”

“She was right,” you say poking your tongue out. “Sounds like we would've gotten on famously.”

He chuckles before pushing you lightly back on the bed and crawling onto you, kissing you deeply.

“Fuck I so wanna take you right now,” he rasps against your ear. “But I know you ain't fully ready.”

“Didn't stop me when I had a knife wound,” you point out. “But my arm hurts a fuck ton. The meds are wearing off.”

“Then I'll wait,” he says softly, kissing your forehead before he clambers off, reinstating himself by the headboard and pulling you up to rest on his chest. “I'm gonna go to Red's tomorrow. Get myself a better paper trail as Pete Castiglione. Ain't gonna look good turning up to the wedding with no documentation.”

“You're really thinking this through, aren't you?” you say gently, stroking your hand over his broad chest.

“'Course I am, darlin',” he says warmly. “I fucked up the proposal but I ain't gonna fuck up the big day for you.”

“Are you gonna wait until I can at least get my arm out of the sling?” you jokingly tease.

“I want my girl to look her best,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “Also, you might flip your shit at this but I wanna plan it if you're ok with that?”

“You wanna plan the wedding by yourself?” you ask bemused.

“Yeah...if that's alright?” he says awkwardly.

You laugh for a little while. Honestly, you'd never known someone be so much of a closet romantic as Frank. He may be a beast in the bedroom but he was a perfect gentleman otherwise. You suspected he'd already got some ideas in his head.

“I trust you,” you nod. “I pick my own dress though.”

“Done,” he chuckles.

You both nuzzle further into each other, the contentment and happiness flowing in between your two bodies. He strokes your hair for a long time.

“Frank?” you say lazily.

“Yeah, darlin'?”

“Will you read to me?”

“Sure thing,” he says warmly, reaching over and grabbing the new book he'd started. _The War of the Worlds._ You lose yourself in the sound of his gravelly voice...

 

“'The chances against anything manlike on Mars are a million to one," he said.'” Frank read.

 

**

 

You awake with Frank's arm draped over your stomach and his face nestled into the crook of your neck. It's still dark outside so you just lie there, listening to Frank's steady breathing as the pull of sleep lulls you back under.

 

_Russo has his hands over you, clawing at your flesh with hungry precision. You see his insane grin reaching up to his cold eyes._

“ _You'll never be rid of me, Officer. I've marked you, see.”_

_He palms his hand over the bite scar on your neck._

“ _Castle can't keep you safe.”_

“ _Fuck you!” you cry. “We beat you. You can't hurt us any more!”_

_He wrenches your hand out, ripping the ring off of your finger and throwing it behind him._

“ _I always get what I want,” he says darkly before grabbing your hair and you feel his hot breath on your face again._

_Slowly his face morphs as the ribbons of skin peel downwards, exposing the flesh underneath. He gives a sickly smile as the blood tracks down the ragged crevices._

“ _Always,” he hisses, and his rips your shirt open, bringing his broken face to yours._

 

“BYRNE!” Frank shouts, shaking you to wakefulness again.

“What?!” you say, looking wildly around yourself, expecting to see the spectre of Russo looming over you.

Frank looks highly concerned, “You were screamin', darlin'.”

“I was?” you pant and you become aware that your pyjamas are plastered to your body with sweat.

“Are you alright?” he says worriedly.

“Bad dream,” you mumble, feeling the chill of the room as your skin starts to dry.

“Tell me,” Frank says softly.

You don't want to. You wanted to keep it to yourself. You didn't want to seem weak, like you'd been affected too much by the past few months.

“Byrne, tell me,” Frank presses. “Stop bein' stubborn.” He could read you like an open book.

“Russo,” you admit. “I dreamt about Russo and it felt...it felt so real...and I just felt sick.”

“Darlin,” Frank whispers, gathering you up in his arms and kissing your head. “You're safe. I got ya.”

“I just...” you start to say but your voice starts cracking and you bury your face into his chest.

“Come on, girl, tell me,” Frank says softly. “You know I hated this therapy shit but it does actually help talkin' bout it.”

“I can't,” you whisper.

“You can,” he says firmly. “You're strong but you ain't always gotta be strong. Talk to me.”

“In the hideout,” you start. “Before they brought you there. Russo, he....he tortured me, he threatened to rape me.”

“Fuckin' bastard,” Frank hisses and holds you tighter.

“And he did the same in his penthouse apartment. Forced me to shower whilst he stood there. And I just...I just can't shake the image of his face.”

“Darlin', you ain't gotta be ashamed of being traumatised by it. Fuck, I mean, I'd be a lil' concerned if it didn't affect ya at all,” Frank coos. “I'm here with ya, every step of the way. Just like ya were here for me. Cry it out, girl.”

You did exactly that. You'd held so much emotion in since the carousel and you thought you'd buried it well, you thought you'd dealt with it but Sam Walker had brought all those feelings up to the surface again. At least Sam was dead now. Russo....well not so much. There still remained a chance that he'd return someday.

“Shhh, it's 'aight,” Frank murmurs, rocking you gently.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper. “You just proposed and I've spoilt it by being a fucking mess.”

“Never,” he says softly. “When the sun comes up we're gonna go to Red's together and then I'm gonna take you some place nice.”

“I love you, Frank,” you say, curling your fingers into his.

“Love you too, girl,” he says warmly. “Now come on, get some more rest. That's an order.”

“Yes, sir,” you say mockingly and he laughs.

“Ain't gonna lie, I kinda like that,” he smirks. “But go to sleep.”

He doesn't let go of you the rest of the night.

 

**

 

Sunlight streams through the crack in the curtains, hitting your face and you wince at the invasion of your cloud of sleep. You pat around the bed with your eyes closed and half panic to find nothing there but you feel a stirring against your back and realised Frank was behind you. You relax slightly, stretching your arms out with languid movements.

Your eyes fall upon the ring on your finger and you play with it, feeling the warmed metal band and running your finger over the old fashioned setting. You'd never been a diamonds kind of girl and you loved how classic the ring was.

You still couldn't quite believe the timeline of the last week. Domestic bliss, kidnap and torture, an engagement. You hoped nothing else was lurking round the corner.

Frank moved behind you, throwing his leg over your thighs and letting out a content rumble. You weren't quite sure if he was awake yet so you stay still, just letting your eyes adjust to the beam of daylight.

“Mornin' darlin',” Frank mumbles, pressing himself flusher against you.

“Morning,” you whisper back.

“No nightmares?” he asks sleepily.

“No, I slept straight through,” you say.

“Atta girl,” he praises before he kisses the point where your neck meets your shoulder. “You want breakfast?”

“Not very hungry,” you say truthfully. “I'm just happy staying here for a bit longer.”

“Fine by me,” he murmurs, nesting his cheek to yours.

You turn slightly and catch his lips with your own. It doesn't take very long until your affectionate kiss turns into something a little heavier. Frank breaks away, his breathing a little laboured.

“Stop teasin', girl. You're still in a sling,” he growls.

You don't want to admit to him that you just want to feel some intimacy. You hadn't forgotten your nightmare about Russo and you wanted to erase Russo's cruel mental touch with Frank's loving physical one.

“Is that an order?” you say in your best coy voice.

“Shit, girl. Why you gotta say it like that?” he says, his voice dropping an octave and you can feel a slight twitch against your back.

“Because I know you like it,” you smirk.

“Damn right I do,” Frank murmurs. “So if I give ya an order to stay still whilst I rip ya clothes off...”

“Then I guess I'll have to be a good girl,” you say, knowing you're working him up.

“Then stay,” he growls, hooking his hands into the waistband of your pyjama pants and yanking them down and off. His hands go to his DIY shirt that he made for you and he tears that off with ease, leaving you naked apart from the sling.

“Now, how can I do this without hurtin' ya?” he asks, his tone softening a little bit.

“Side on?” you venture.

He turns you slightly so you're lying on your side, your good arm underneath your body. Then he picks up your leg by the thigh and hooks it back over his waist.

“Like that?” he asks.

“Yeah like that,” you murmur as you feel his hand exploring its way up your torso.

You feel his hand dip down in between you both, freeing his cock from his boxers and he begins to rub himself against your entrance, gliding through the burgeoning wetness there.

“Givin' ya another order, girl,” he rumbles into your ear. “You ain't to tell me to pick up the pace, fuck ya harder or any shit like that. I'm doin' it my way. Got it?”

“Uh huh,” you nod.

“Atta girl,” he smiles, nipping at your earlobe and you let out a small whimper.

He eases himself into you with careful movements, letting you adjust before he takes your leg and holds it towards him, giving him easier access.

God, he was taking it so slow! You didn't know if he was doing this out of courtesy for your injuries or just to torment you. The pace was agonising as he lazily thrust into you whilst he placed languid kisses down your shoulder and collarbone.

“Frank...” you start to say but he cuts you off.

“You gonna disobey?” he says with lustful mirth. “'Cause I ain't above showing you who's in charge.”

You couldn't help the spike of arousal that made you clench around him. He definitely noticed and chuckled darkly.

“Seems you like that, darlin'. I'm gonna file that away for future use.”

“Fuck Frank, you're killin' me here,” you hiss as you try to buck down onto him but his firm hand holds you in place.

“I'm just enjoyin' ya, girl. I ain't gotta fuck you raw all the time,” he smirks, pushing especially deep.

A moan of desperation falls from your lips. You can't take this any more! You use your good hand to find your clit, giving you a little bit of friction.

“Nuh huh,” Frank rasps, letting his hand go from your thigh to your wrist, pulling it away from yourself. “Gotta ask first.”

You're in such a daze that you just scramble for any word, “Please.”

“'Aight,” he says, letting go of your wrist and hiking your thigh up more. “Just this once.”

Your hands shoots back down quicker than he can get the words out and you start your own furious pace, keen to stop his incessant teasing of you. You're already in a sensitive frenzy.

He mercifully starts picking up his speed and you don't hold back on your loud moans, letting him know you appreciated it. You soon pushed yourself over the edge, crying out as your whole body spasmed.

“Good girl,” Frank praises, kissing your cheek.

He doesn't last too much longer and pulls out, spilling himself over your inner thighs. You feel the warm stickiness pooling there.

“I needed that,” you pant.

“Could tell,” Frank chuckles. “I'll never get tired o' doin' that, darlin'. Stay there, I'll get somethin' ta clean ya up.”

He kisses the top of your head before leaving into the bathroom and returning with a small towel. He methodically clears away the mess before stripping the covers back.

“Guess we gotta get ready. Shame you gotta put clothes on,” he muses, looking over your naked body.

“So you want me to be nude at Matt's?” you joke.

“Red can't see shit anyway, don't make no difference to him,” Frank laughs.

“Might do if he goes for a hug and discovers I've got no clothes on,” you say, smirking.

“Ahhh fair,” Frank concedes. “Come on, I'll help ya.”

 

**

 

After some wrestling with clothes, you manage to get dressed and Frank drapes a coat around your shoulders before shooing you into the car. He still opts to use his signature 'disguise' of a hooded jacket and you can't help but smirk.

Frank's already got a short beard again and looks completely unrecognisable as the man splashed across the old Most Wanted list. Amazing how much facial hair could change a person. His bruises had faded too. You had to squint but you could just see the final grey tinge leaving his skin.

“I got somethin' on my face?” he asks, puzzled at you staring at him.

“No, just wondering why you're still using the hood,” you say honestly.

“Can't be too careful,” Frank muses, pulling into the underground parking lot of Red's apartment complex. “I'm supposed ta be dead remember?”

“Alright,” you laugh, knowing you weren't going to win this particular discussion. “I get it.”

You both get out of the car and walk to the elevator, Frank punching in the floor number on the display. While you wait for it to ascend, you feel a sharp squeeze on your ass and you turn to see Frank's childish grin .

“Really?” you snort. “How old are you? Twelve?”

“It's a good ass, darlin',” Frank chuckles. “Couldn't resist.”

You shove him playfully before the elevator doors open and you walk to Matt's apartment. Frank knocks on the door and you both stand there, listening to the light footsteps coming your way. Matt opens the door and you're surprised to see him looking so professional. He's in his suit with those heavily tinted red glasses perched on his face.

You don't even need to introduce yourselves because he smiles sweetly and says, “Frank, Byrne. I was wondering when you'd show up.”

“Kinda unnerves me how ya do that, Red,” Frank says.

“You probably still smell like gun shot residue,” you tease and Matt lets out a low laugh.

“Something like that,” Matt confirms. “Although I see you've added that to your scent.”

“It's been a long week,” you sigh.

“Come in,” Matt says, standing aside and waving his arm. “I've been expecting you.”

“You have?” Frank asks, a little off guard.

You walk down into Matt's living area and Matt disappears to get some papers. He sets them down on the coffee table before gesturing for you to sit down.

“After the shootout at Central Park, I got a visit at the firm from people I assume to be high ranking government officials,” Matt starts, flicking through the paperwork.

“Ah shit, Red, I didn't mean for ya to get mixed up in this shit,” Frank apologises.

“No, no, it's nothing bad,” Matt hastily adds. “They just came to me since I was your lawyer. I think they assumed you'd eventually visit about something.”

“What did they say?” you ask, a little curious.

Matt skims his hands over a Braille copy, reminding himself before he explains, “They've given me official documentation about someone called Peter Castiglione? Does that mean anything?”

“Shit, they did?!” Frank half cries out. “Yeah, that's what I go by now. Can't be sayin' I'm Frank Castle, right?”

You're a little surprised. The way Marion James had acted you assumed they'd left Frank high and dry to start over but it appeared they did have a bit of compassion.

Matt pushes the stack of papers over and Frank grabs them, eagerly reading.

“That should apparently be a birth certificate, tax records and a Social Security number,” Matt continues.

“Fuck,” Frank breathes. “You know, I was gonna ask if ya could draw this up for me but guess I don't hafta.”

“You were going to ask me to forge illegal documents?” Matt says and you can see his eyebrow quirk up over his glasses.

“I got my reasons,” Frank says cryptically.

You spot a page on the coffee table, riddled with score marks and redaction lines that doesn't seem to fit with the others. You reach over to grab the paper and Matt's hand quickly shoots out, placing it over your own but he's not fast enough to stop you from pulling back. He does, however, brush his fingers over the ring as you lean away from him.

“I think I know what those reasons are,” Matt smiles. “Good for you, Frank. I mean it and oh Byrne, you really shouldn't read that.”

It's too late, you're already skimming through the classified article. It's a heavily edited reworking of the official story at the carousel but your eyes skip down to a sentence that makes you shiver.

 

**William Russo, stable. Recovery chances likely. Permanent scarring definite.**

 

Matt senses the change in your heartbeat and sighs, “I said you shouldn't read it.”

Frank leans over, reading the sentence for himself, “S'aight, darlin'. The second he recovers he's gonna be in prison. He ain't comin' after ya.”

“I hope you're right,” you mutter, not feeling very confident.

Your eyes skim down to the last few lines.

 

**Code name: Punisher. Status: Deceased.**

**Code name: Black Velvet. Status: Alive.**

 

“Who the fuck is Black Velvet?” you ask, bewildered.

“I think that's you,” Matt chuckles.

“Seriously?!” you cry. “Sounds like a stripper name! Could they not have given me something a little more serious?!”

“Did you want to be called Robocop instead?” Matt teases.

“Black Velvet, huh?” Frank snorts. “I kinda like it.”

“Oh you would, wouldn't you?” you hiss.

“Hey, you're the one that puts on 80s songs in the car,” Frank points out, trying to stop himself from laughing.

“You're right, Matt. I shouldn't have read this,” you say, throwing the paper away from you. “Now I know if I ever become a superhero I'll have a terrible name to go with it.”

“Ah it's not so bad,” Matt smiles. “They could call you the Devil, right?”

“You do literally have a mask with Devil horns,” you laugh and you all crack up slightly.

“So are you really doing it? Getting married?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, we are Red,” Frank says warmly. “Soon as she's healed up.”

“I'm really happy for you both,” Matt says, flashing that wide charming smile. “You're good together.”

“Hey...uhhh, can I ask ya somethin'?” Frank says, his face becoming a little more serious.

“Sure, Frank,” Matt answers, sitting more upright.

“You wanna...come to the weddin'?”

You look at Frank in surprise and he just gives you a slight wink.

“I'd be happy to,” Matt grins. “As long as you don't call me Red in public.”

“Can't promise that,” Frank chuckles. “Murdock just ain't as funny to say.”

Matt just gives an exasperated sigh, “Fine, Frank, have it your way, or should I say Pete? Just let me know when the date is.”

“Sure thing,” Frank nods. “Thanks for this. I really mean it. All you done for us, we ain't ever gonna be able to repay it.”

“You can,” Matt says with a cryptic smile. “Just stay out of trouble. I've had enough gangland shootouts and exploding apartments for the moment.”

“You and me both,” you joke.

Frank gathers up the documents, folding them up and tucking them into his jacket. Matt rises from the couch and the two men shake hands warmly. You walk up to Matt, giving him as best of a hug as you can.

“You're hurt?” Matt asks, tracing his arm lightly over the fabric of the sling.

“That's why I said it was a long story,” you say, smiling a little sadly although you know he can't see that.

Matt takes his glasses off, his eyes raised slightly to the ceiling in that sightless gaze and he appears to concentrate for a time, “You got shot?”

You still don't know quite how he does that. You've heard of blind people gaining heightened senses but Matt's abilities were beyond anything normal. “Yeah I did, twice. Last of Russo's men.”

“She dealt with it,” Frank says firmly.

Matt lays his hand on your good arm and squeezes it gently, “I know if you had to resort to that that it must have been awful for you. I'm sorry you had to go through it. You ever need somebody else to talk to, I'm here.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” you say.

“Hey, Red, stop manhandlin' my girl,” Frank says but there's no aggression in his voice, only a slight teasing tone. “We've got a date to get to.”

Matt laughs, “Frank Castle on a date. Wonders will never cease.”

He lets go of your arm after pressing his business card into your hand and you pocket it.

Frank starts walking back up the stairs and you give Matt one last look.

“Likewise if you ever need somebody to talk to about your Daredevil problems, gimme a text,” you say before following Frank.

“I just might,” you hear Matt mutter, almost so quiet you barely caught it.

 

**  
  
Frank pulls up outside an ice cream shop and you look at him curiously.

“That right there,” Frank says pointing. “That's the finest gelato establishment in New York.”

“You're taking me for ice cream?” you ask.

“That ain't no ordinary ice cream, darlin',” Frank laughs. “Proper Italian shit. My Pa used to take me here when I was a kid. Reminded him of where he came from.”

You look at the sign over the shop: _Sartori & Son, Traditional Italian Gelato since 1928._

“Told ya I'd take ya somewhere nice,” he smiles before getting out of the car. He comes around and opens the passenger door for you, helping you extract yourself from the seatbelt.

He walks you in and you smile broadly. You love the set up. There's pictures all over the walls that you assume to be family photos. You can practically feel the cosiness and the warmth of this place. You see an older gentleman behind the counter, busying himself with various concoctions but the second he hears the bell over the door ring he turns and gives the homeliest smile you've even seen on a person.

“Welcome!” he cries in an accent that's definitely not lost any of its original twang.

“Buongiorno,” Frank replies and the man's eyes light up as he hears his native language.

“Ah, now you're sweet talking me,” the man laughs. “I'm not gonna give you extra sprinkles just for that you know.”

“Wouldn't expect you to, Sartori,” Frank chuckles warmly. “Just wanna treat my girl here. Told her this was the finest establishment out there.”

“Ok, maybe I give you an extra scoop,” Sartori smiles, tugging on his apron a little bit. “Come, bella signora, I'll show you what we have.”

Frank gives you a gentle push and you walk over the vast display of brightly coloured ice cream, your mind whirling.

“What would the lady like?” Sartori asks.

“What do you recommend?” you say. Frankly the choice is overwhelming.

“I like this one,” Sartori laughs to Frank. “Not afraid to try new things. Tell you what, go sit and I'll bring you something nice.”

“Thank you,” you smile and Frank leads you to an enclosed booth and wraps his arm around you.

“You like it?” Frank asks, gesturing to the place.

“I do, thank you,” you smile and give him a gentle kiss.

“Good,” Frank grins. “I like seein' ya happy.”

Sartori brings over two tall glasses filled with different flavours and sets them down in front of you both, “For the two piccioncini, enjoy!”

“What did he say?” you ask and Frank laughs to himself.

“He said lovebirds, darlin'. Now dig in.”

You waste no time pulling the glass to yourself and getting a large spoonful of gelato. Well holy shit...this was amazing! The texture just melted on your tongue and the flavours burst into your mouth.

“Fuck, you weren't kidding,” you say. “This is awesome.”

“Sometimes I'm right,” Frank chuckles before his phone pings. He looks at it and you see him smirk.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Lieberman. I told him about us and he said if there's gonna be a gunfight at the weddin' he ain't comin'.”

“Little shit,” you swear but in an affectionate way.

“You wanna invite any one, darlin'?” Frank asks, firing off a quick reply that you're sure is going to be scathing.

“Not got any family to,” you shrug.

“You ain't got parents?” Frank asks.

“My dad died when I was young and my mom...well she was never mother material, let's say. I don't have any siblings.”

“You got friends though,” Frank points out.

“A lot of which denounced me when that article came out,” you remind him. “I guess the only person I'd really like to invite would be Jimmy.”

“Your partner?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, I mean we've always hung around at the station a bit but we've become friends since I went back to work and he's actually not stopped contact since Sam Walker,” you muse.

“'Aight, you invite him then,” Frank smiles before his phone pings again.

You take the opportunity to text Jimmy since you're still on trauma leave and won't see him for a while.

 

**Byrne: Hey, this may sounds nuts but I got engaged and I'd be really happy if you came to the wedding.**

 

You get a pretty much immediate reply.

 

**Jimmy Allen: You're marrying Castle?!?!**

 

**Byrne: You thought I was kidding about that house in the suburbs?**

 

**Jimmy Allen: I'd be honoured to come. Can I bring my old lady? She'd still like to thank you.**

 

**Byrne: Of course :)**

 

**Jimmy Allen: Congrats, I mean that. Speak soon**

 

“Jimmy says yes,” you tell Frank and he nods, his mouth full of ice cream.

You spent the rest of the time in the shop eagerly talking about the future, laughing, joking and cuddling. Frank even 'accidentally' dropped gelato on your nose to which he kissed off with an impish smile. If this was what normal was going to be like from now on, you were happy to take it. I mean, fuck, you deserved something to go right in your life and that something was Frank Castle.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are gonna have to wait for the wedding until next time, sorry! This is a bit of a filler establishing chapter.
> 
> Isn't Frank just adorable when he's not having to kill a bunch of mercenaries?


	14. Silence in the Cafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You promised you'd meet up with Jimmy sometime but Frank is nervous about letting you go alone but I mean what's the worst that could happen right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> Here I am with yet another chapter I didn't really plan for but was fun to write all the same.
> 
> Thanks for almost 200 Kudos and almost 3,000 hits, I mean I'm just really overwhelmed with how well this story has gone down!
> 
> I love receiving your feedback <3
> 
> Warnings: Smut, fluff and potential non-con triggers.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> \- TLP x

“Fuckin' sloppy,” Frank hisses as you're not quick enough to dodge his jab. “Get your fuckin' guard up higher, you're wide open.”

“I'm not a professional fucking boxer,” you fire back, frustrated at yourself.

In the couple of weeks since Frank got his legal papers, he's been building your strength back up, forcing your injured arm back into normal use. You both appreciated it greatly that he was helping you and hated how regimented he was.

Every morning at 8 AM without fail, he'd shake you awake to train. First he started with stamina and mobility, trying to get your muscles to stretch without putting too much strain on them. The next few days after that he gave you light weights and monitored you with intense scrutiny, barking at you for the wrong use of form or for trying to push beyond your limits. After that he sparred with you, urging you on to make your punches faster and harder.

It'd been a long road with a lot of swearing so far but although he rode you damn hard like the most vicious military PT out there, he was extremely patient. He worked you through the first time you collapsed in a ball, shaking with the effort of exertion, the second time where you broke down because he yelled at you too much and then when you'd overstrained your bicep and had been screaming.

“Don't give a shit,” Frank says shrugging, noting your sour look. “Your left arm is droppin' and don't give me the usual fuckin' line about getting shot there, girl. I'm still walkin' n' kickin' on this fuckin' leg and you don't see me stirrin' up a bitch fit.”

“Bitch fit?!” you exclaim. “I'll show you bitch fit.”

You feint slightly to the right and he moves to counteract you but you spin quickly the other way. Frank anticipates the bluff and throws a right hook at you but you duck, driving your fist up into his ribcage. He staggers slightly, but only in that way that Frank can, which was barely at all.

He bursts out into laughter, “There we go. Progress. You held it well n' you let the power come from the hip. Actually a pretty decent punch, darlin'. Almost back to when ya clocked me on the rooftop.”

Your anger practically dissolves at his praise and you grin like an idiot, “Really? You think so?”

“Goddamn, girl you're sweet sometimes,” he chuckles. “Yeah, I don't think it'll be long 'fore you're back to normal. Maybe another couple a' weeks.”

“Thank fuck,” you sigh, feeling the beaded sweat on your skin start making tracks down your body. “Because this is exhausting. The sooner I can go back to my old routine the better.”

“You think I'm gonna let ya go back to your shitty weight set?” Frank smirks. “Naww darlin', otherwise ya won't be able to keep up with me.”

“Is that all I am?” you tease, grabbing a towel and swiping your forehead. “A sparring partner?”

“Well, I ain't never wanted to fuck any sparrin' partners I had in the USMC,” Frank laughs. “Although some were better cooks.”

You flick the towel at him, causing him to dodge, “Asshole. I'm going for a shower.”

“'Aight, off ya go, girl,” he says, flashing you an affectionate smile.

You go to the bathroom, peeling off the workout clothes that were stuck to your body. It takes you about five minutes to just wrestle off the sports bra as it desperately clings to you, unwilling to come off.

You turn on the dials and sigh in bliss as the warm water rains down upon you, washing away the sweat and grime. You let your hair soak to the scalp, feeling the small river cascade down your back. A sudden noise makes you jump in alarm but you just see Frank stripping his own clothing off before entering the shower cubicle.

“Er..hi?” you say in confusion.

“Hey I needed one too n' there's room for both,” he smirks, leaning over you to put his head under the stream of water.

“Oh sure, that's what this is,” you say sarcastically, giving him a knowing look.

He holds his hands up, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards, “You got me, darlin'.”

Before you can reply, he whirls you around, pinning you to the cubicle wall and you shiver as you feel the cold tiles on your back. You see his gaze rake over your soaking wet body and you hear that deep rumble you've come to love so much.

“Fuck, you're beautiful like this,” he murmurs, letting his hand lightly run down your torso.

“Frank, either fuck me or get out of the shower,” you laugh. “I'm freezing here.”

“I can tell,” he smirks, circling one of your hard nipples. “Want me to keep ya warm, girl?”

You nod and he's instantly pressing his body to yours. His skin feels like it's on fire. He hungrily finds your mouth, growling slightly with his own urgency.

“Gonna lift ya up, that ok?” he rasps.

“Uh huh,” you manage to say as he runs his fingers down your folds, testing your readiness. “Do what you want, Frank.”

“Darlin', I don't think ya mean that,” he says, trying to remain respectful of your recent injuries still.

You firmly clasp his shoulders, drawing his body closer to yours and your teeth find a spot between his neck and collarbone, nipping gently. He grunts and you feel his cock twitch against you.

“I mean what I say,” you say firmly, before biting a little harder this time.

“Fuck, girl,” Frank growls. “You'd better fuckin' hang on then.”

He grabs your ass harshly, kneading the flesh with almost painful strokes before lifting you up off of the ground and bracing your back against the tiles. You wrap your legs around him, your arms circling his neck and he roughly enters you causing you to let out a small cry. He stops, checking that you're ok and you give his waist a squeeze with your thighs to let him know to carry on.

He shifts his weight and position so you're being supported by just one of his arms whilst his hand forcibly knots into your hair, pulling your head backwards. He starts a relentless pace, slamming his cock into you hard whilst your moans echo around the bathroom. Frank starts mouthing at your exposed skin, a mess of tongue, lips and teeth, claiming you as his own. He drops his hand from your hair and it runs down your jaw, gripping tightly before tracking down your throat. You let out an audible gasp at the light pressure.

“Oh!” he chuckles mirthfully. “You like that, huh, girl? Like my fuckin' hand around your neck?”

“Yes,” you pant.

He increases the strength of his grip and you let out a strangled little moan, feeling yourself clench around him.

“Still that same nasty girl on that rooftop, ain't ya?” he smirks. “Ain't I the luckiest sonovabitch?”

“Frank,” you croak out, letting your head fall back to rest against the wall whilst he ruts with brutal movements into you.

“That's ma fuckin' girl,” he growls. “You fuckin' moan for me.”

You feel the slight heady tingle as you're starved for breath, his hand pressing more forcefully on your neck.

“Oh fuck!” you rasp, feeling the arousal increase heavily in your body and the nerve endings practically screaming.

You orgasm without warning. You barely felt a buildup and yet it crashes into you with such force. Frank lets go of your neck, wanting to hear you properly scream without obstruction. You buck wildly against him, the convulsions in your body taking over. Frank's rhythm suddenly becomes sloppy and he rams deep into you, so deep it sets a new spasm running through your body and you hear that low primal grunt as he spills himself into you.

He lowers you gently back to the ground, taking the opportunity to kiss along the knife scar on your stomach like he always does to boost your confidence.

“Fuck, we're gonna have to get ya on some birth control, darlin',” he laughs. “I ain't fuckin' good at pullin' out any more.”

“Guess you were just having too much fun,” you smile.

“Shit, yeah,” Frank grins, moving under the long forgotten stream of water. “Honestly Byrne, ya still fuckin' surprise me. Wonder how many other kinks ya got that I don't know about.”

“We have plenty of years for you to discover them,” you wink and he gives you the warmest smile before pulling you into a hug under the warm water.

“That shit makes me ridiculously happy when ya say it,” he whispers against you.

“Good, now stop hogging the shower, I've got places to be soon,” you say playfully.

“Yes Ma'am,” he laughs, before aiming the shower head directly at your face.

“Real fucking mature, Castle,” you splutter and he just flashes you the biggest shit eating grin he can muster.

  
  


**

  
  


“Sure you gotta go?” Frank says, his arm wrapped around you as you both lie on the couch.

“I promised, Frank,” you say firmly. “It'll do me good to get out and about a bit.”

“Yeah but I ain't gonna be there,” he reminds you.

“That's the point,” you snort. “It's a catch up between colleagues.”

“What if somethin' goes wrong?” he asks.

“Would you stop fucking worrying?” you laugh. “I'm a cop, Jimmy's a cop, we're going to a café, we'll be fine.”

“'Aight, 'aight,” he sighs. “You're right. I'm just bein' paranoid.”

You give him a long kiss, “Besides, if I get into trouble by some holy unlucky chance, I have my phone with me.”

Frank gives a slight smile, “Go on then, darlin'. You go have fun.”

“See you later,” you say, giving Frank a crushing hug.

“Love ya,” he says. “Be safe.”

“Love you too. Bye!”

  
  


**  
  
Frank waits until he hears the front door close before he calls Micro, “Hey Lieberman.”

“Oh hey, Frank. Everything ok?” Micro asks, genially.

“Yeah yeah, listen, that tracker ya installed on Byrne's phone, how do I use it?” Frank asks.

After your episode with Sam Walker, Frank had waited until you fell asleep one night, stealing your cell and driving over to the Lieberman home. He'd demanded Micro install tracking software so he'd always know where you were if you were in danger. He wasn't going to take any chances in the future.

“I set up that handy dandy app, remember? Just open it, it'll link to Google maps,” Micro says. “I take it today's the first time she's going outside without you?”

“Yeah, she's meetin' her beat partner, the one who was in the basement too. I don't feel fuckin' comfortable about it,” Frank mutters. If there was one person he could always be honest with these days it was Micro. They'd been through too much together.

“You can't keep mothering her, Frank,” Micro says softly. “She's a big tough girl, I mean, shit she's almost gone through the same amount of stuff you have and she's still kicking.”

“I just don't want her to go through any more,” Frank says, almost quietly. “I've set the weddin' for four weeks from now and she deserves some fuckin' peace.”

“Just tell me you won't use this tracker after things have settled,” Micro says. “I don't think she'd take too kindly to being spied on.”

“This comin' from the guy who installed CCTV in every fuckin' room in his house to watch his family,” Frank scoffs.

“Yeah but they were still in danger, Frank, Byrne isn't. It's done,” Micro reminds him harshly. “You're just gonna have to realise that this is it now. Normal domestic married life approaches. Enjoy it, Frank. You need the peace as much as she does.”

Frank sighs heavily, “Yeah you're right, Lieberman. I'll delete the tracker after the honeymoon.”

“Good, because I'm not having her come kick my ass if she finds out I installed it,” Micro laughs.

“'Specially since I been trainin' her back up,” Frank chuckles. “Listen Lieberman, got one more thing ta ask.”

“Fire away, Frank,” Micro says.

“I'm gonna need a best man here. I know we ain't been friends very long and-”

“Really?!” Micro cries. “Wow, I...nobody's ever asked me that before. Shit, yeah, I'd love to.”

“Good,” Frank says, leaning back on the couch and smiling. “Although if ya gonna do a speech, leave the part out where your wife tried to kiss me. That ain't gonna go down well.”

“I'm not an idiot, Frank,” Micro huffs. “I'd rather not be reminded of that occurrence, like, ever.”

“Thanks,” Frank laughs. “Now I ain't ever said it but I appreciate all you done for me. You've been a good friend, David.”

Frank hears something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle.

“No problem,” Micro says, trying to make his voice firmer. “Listen I gotta go, Leo's going to martial arts class. You need anything else, gimme a text. Bye Frank.”

“Bye Lieberman,” Frank says warmly.

He closes the call, trying to scroll through the apps on the phone until he finds the covert name Micro had told him about. ArchAngel.

He clicks the little square and immediately the screen changes to a map of New York, zeroing in on a set of streets. He sees a little dot slowly moving up one of the lines, exactly towards the café you'd told him you were going to.

Frank breathes a sigh of relief, setting the phone down before flipping the TV on. He periodically checks the map until he sees the dot finally reach the café and stay there.

Good. It was ok, he was just being overly protective. She was safe.

  
  


**

  
  


“Are you serious?” you exclaim, almost whooping with laughter.

“Goddamn serious,” Jimmy laughs. “And when Berkowitz opened the door to the bathroom the perp was just sat in the bath filled to the top with pudding.”

“Oh my god, that's insane,” you giggle. “What a waste of pudding.”

“I know, right?” Jimmy chuckles. “Man it's been ages since I had a good weirdo case.”

“I miss those,” you smile, stirring your cocoa. “I think my favourite was raiding a brothel and finding an Austrian ambassador being spanked with a bratwurst.”

Jimmy half spits his coffee out, having to lean over his cup, “Fuck, that must have been funny!”

“It's hard to arrest someone when you're trying not to laugh,” you wink. “Doesn't beat pudding guy though.”

“It's gonna take a lot for someone to outweird pudding guy in the future,” Jimmy chuckles before he smiles warmly at you. “You seem good Byrne.”

“I'm doing better,” you nod. “Finally getting my biceps back so that's a good start.”

“I didn't mean the muscles, dumbass,” he snorts. “I mean you seem happy.”

“That's because I am,” you smirk.

“As it should be,” he nods. “I don't know shit about Castle other than his handiwork but the way he treated you in that basement, I can tell he fucking adores you. I hope you'll have a happy life together.”

“I hope so too because god fucking knows we deserve it by now,” you laugh. “I'm running out of space to get shot and stabbed in.”

“And blown up,” Jimmy adds. “You know you got a nickname at the station now?”

“Is it 'Cursed'?” you venture.

“Nah,” Jimmy laughs. “It's Highlander.”

“Highlander?!” you cry out.

“Because to survive a bomb, a near fatal stabbing and gunshots you gotta be immortal, right?” Jimmy laughs, looking at your confused face.

“Fuck y'all need to stop watching movies in the break room,” you snort. “Sarge is gonna catch you one day.”

“But it's Ghostbusters night, tomorrow,” Jimmy pouts. “Come on, you know what it's like.”

You roll your eyes but you don't stop smiling, “I'm gonna miss you guys.”

“Why miss us?” Jimmy asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Once I get married I'm gonna transfer to the 17th Precinct,” you tell him.

You see his face fall slightly.

“Really, why?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

“Just for a fresh start,” you shrug. “Too many people know me in the station and it's just been a media circus. I need to get away.”

“Oh,” Jimmy says crestfallen. “Yeah I suppose I get that. I just..”

“You could transfer with me you know?” you say quietly. “The 17th is close to home for you, right? They're pretty strapped for normal officers right now after the Wilson Fisk debacle.”

Jimmy leans back in his chair, fiddling with the handle of his coffee cup and you can see him thinking it over, “You know, Byrne, that's not a bad plan. Jen's been on my ass to spend more time at home and not being stuck in traffic for a couple of hours every day might be a good thing.”

You smile widely, “It'd be nice to walk in with a familiar face.”

“Allen and Byrne, beat partners wherever we go,” Jimmy laughs. “I'll think about it, I'll talk it over with Jen tonight.”

“To new beginnings then,” you say, holding your cocoa mug up.

“New beginnings,” Jimmy smiles, clinking his cup to yours. “Let's hope the rest of the year is quiet.”

“I hear that,” you laugh.

Your eyes flit briefly to the side, as you hear a small commotion. Normally you'd just ignore it, I mean New York wasn't famed for having quiet streets at the best of times, but there was something about the people involved. You saw a tall lithe man in a purple suit and man he looked pissed.

“You ok?” Jimmy asks following your gaze.

“Yeah just wondering what's going on,” you murmur. “Cop senses tingling.”

Jimmy takes in the purple suited man who is shouting at another man on the street, “Yeah I see what you mean, wanna intervene?”

You wait for a time, just watching until the purple suited man moves on, “Nah, think it's blown over.”

“You need to relax,” Jimmy laughs. “You're not on duty now.”

“Yeah yeah,” you sigh, poking your tongue out.

You look back down to your cup, swirling the last dregs of the cocoa around and watching them form a small whirlpool. You sense a sudden presence and look up to see the purple suited man standing right behind Jimmy.

“You, get up and go home,” the man says and you hear the British accent.

Wow, this guy was entitled, you think. Taking in the expensive suit and the finely coiffed hair, you guessed he was used to getting his own way. Fucking rich rude prick.

To your absolute amazement, Jimmy stands up and starts walking down the street.

“What the hell?!” you say in astonishment. Did he really just listen to this ass?!

The British guy sits down, leaning heavily back in the chair and looks at you with a mixture of disinterest and scathingness.

“You, get me a tea, skimmed milk, no sugar,” he barks, waving his hand at you dismissively.

Your first thought is to tell him to go fuck himself, you're not a slave. The second thought starts creeping into your mind, wrapping its tendrils around your rational thought. Maybe you should buy him some tea? You stand up and you're horrified that you're starting to walk towards the baristas. You catch yourself, stopping dead in your tracks, trying to shake the intrusive thoughts out of your head. The purple suited man stands up and walks around to stare you dead in the face, his expression one of complete surprise.

“I said, get. me. a. tea,” he growls forcefully.

Getting him tea. That was definitely the thing you wanted to do right now. You walk over to the counter, buying it before bringing it back and setting it back down on the table.

“Sit,” the man says.

You struggle against the urge but it ultimately wins out and you sit with reluctance.

“Tell me who are you and what you do,” the man orders, his full attention now upon you.

“I'm an Officer in the Hell's Kitchen precinct, my name is Byrne,” you rattle off.

“Is it really my luck that the second person to openly defy me like this is a policewoman?” he spits, sneering slightly.

“Defy?” you ask.

“Shut up and listen,” he snarls, his eyes holding intense contact with yours and any words you'd been forming die in your throat. “Oh this has been a really bad day and I'm not pleasant to be around when I lose my temper. Do you understand?”

You nod, unable to speak.

His eyes fall to your hand on the table and he sees the ring. It almost appears as if he's conflicted inside, “You know, all I asked for was for someone to love me back, to give her a ring like you're wearing right now and she still rejects me.”

Was this guy really monologuing right now, telling you his personal life story? If you weren't completely terrified by the fact he could seemingly make you do anything you'd take him out right then and there.

“Is it because I'm a bad person?” the guy continues, looking out into the street, face screwed up in a defeated expression. “Or maybe I'm just not good looking enough. Tell me Officer Byrne, am I attractive?”

His command forces you to look at him closer, the angular face, the soft brown hair, the big brown eyes and the perfect white teeth. Classically he was very attractive but you saw the coldness, the darkness in his personality and that made your stomach turn.

“Physically, yes,” you answer, trying to keep your inner most thoughts from spilling out.

“See that's what I thought,” the man continues, too wrapped up in his own little world to notice the creep of defiance in your tone. “I gave her everything and she still runs from me. I don't understand it.”

You understood it all too well. Whoever this unlucky girl was who was the object of his affections, you hoped she was far away by now.

“Tell me your fiancé's name,” he demands.

“Pete,” you answer quickly.

The man narrows his eyes and leans over, “You're lying to me, Byrne. Tell me his name and be honest.”

You fight as hard as you can against whatever was forcing the words up your throat. The man becomes frustrated and grabs your hand. The second his skin makes contact your internal battle is lost as he pushes his influence hard into your mind.

“Frank,” you say, shaking with mental exhaustion.

“Frank,” the man repeats. “Good working class name is Frank. Strong.”

“What's your name?” you ask, desperate to try and find any clues out about this guy.

“You want to know my name?” he blinks, his eyebrows raised. “Well that's a new one. The name is Kilgrave.”

You file that away for later use.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you continue.

“You ask a lot of questions, do you know that?” Kilgrave huffs in annoyance. “You're not to ask me any more.”

“Fine,” you say, a little firmer than you meant to.

You see the flash in Kilgrave's eyes and instantly knew you'd fucked up.

“I entertained you, Byrne, because you seem to be the only normal human to fight my powers and I'll admit, I was intrigued but if you're going to give me backchat I'll show you exactly who's running the show.”

He turns to the right where an old man is sat, playing with toy cars with his grandson, “You, old man, stay put. You, child, go walk into traffic.”

The child immediately bounds up, making a beeline for the road. You spring to your feet, putting yourself in the boy's path, restraining him as he tries desperately to squirm out of your grip.

“Stop it!” you cry. “Tell him to stop!”

Kilgrave just sips his tea in a languid manner, enjoying the stressful situation he'd created.

“Fucking stop it!” you yell.

Still he does nothing.

You pick the boy up, throwing him over your shoulder before striding towards Kilgrave, grabbing a butter knife from a nearby table, “Let him go right now.”

“Put the knife to your throat, Byrne,” Kilgrave purrs, a horrid smirk spreading across his face.

All of your past experiences come flooding back. Fuck this was not the time! You feel your mental strength waning as the hand holding the knife rises ever so slowly. For a second, Russo's face swims in your mind and covers Kilgrave's own. You internally scream at yourself to get a grip and you slam the knife down onto the table, feeling the sweat run down the back of your neck.

“How dare you,” Kilgrave growls, rising to his feet. “Who are you? Just some lowly mortal, not anything special! Why do you resist me so much?!”

“Let the boy go,” you repeat, staring him dead in the eyes.

Kilgrave's jaw locks in anger but he eventually capitulates, “Fine, boy, go sit back down your with grandfather.”

You let the child regain his footing on the floor and he runs to the opposite table, seemingly unaware of what has taken place.

“You, after this meeting is done, you're coming with me,” he hisses.

“The fuck I am,” you spit back.

“You will come with me, you will refrain from your vile language and you will be a good girl,” he barks, before turning around to see the entire café staring at him open mouthed. “You lot, be quiet, forget what you've seen and don't look at us.”

Thirty or so people just turn straight back around and carry on with their day.

You hear a balloon pop in the distance and look to the source of the noise briefly. Kilgrave takes that opportunity to grab your arm, pouring his full influence into you.

“You're going to come with me,” he growls.

“I'm going to go with you,” you repeat.

You see the sickly smile start at the corner of his mouth, “Much better.”

“Hey shithead!” you hear a voice call from behind you.

“Jessica?” Kilgrave says in surprise.

You turn your head and see a short woman with the most fiercely intense scowl that you've ever seen on a face before.

“I wouldn't come any closer,” he purrs in delight. “This fine officer of New York might end up killing herself and wouldn't that be a shame?”

“You're fucking sick, Kilgrave,” Jessica says in complete disgust.

“Or maybe I'm actually bored of you, Jones,” Kilgrave scoffs. “This one has quite a resistance to my control. Perhaps she'd be a better replacement for you.”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” Jessica laughs bitterly. “The only thing I'd feel is pity for this girl, not jealousy for you.”

“Stop him,” you call out to her, unsure exactly what she could do but you got the feeling this was the girl Kilgrave had been monologuing about. Maybe she could help you in some way.

“Quiet now,” Kilgrave whispers in your ear and you fall silent.

“Let go of her, Kilgrave,” Jessica says, striding towards the two of you.

Kilgrave backs up, his hand temporarily leaving your arm and you twist away from him, scrambling backwards.

“Get back here, Byrne!” Kilgrave hisses.

Your steps falter, your muscles beg for you to turn back round but you battle against it. You shake your head violently in a protest of 'No'.

“Looks like your control is failing,” Jessica sneers, almost catching up to you.

Kilgrave darts forward, hand grabbing onto the back of your jacket and yanking you into his grip, “My control is not fading, Jones. Everyone else in this café, stand up and press something sharp to your necks.”

The occupants of the café obey without hesitation. Fuck this was going so badly. You couldn't even call for Frank because you knew he'd instantly fall under this guy's control as well.

“Enough, Kilgrave,” Jessica calls desperately.

“Stay, where you are Jones. I have them on standby. Also....I wonder if I can make this girl forget her fiancé,” Kilgrave threatens darkly, his mouth moving closer to your ear.

You're practically yelling in your head 'never!' but you can't force the words out, his control still seeped into your system. Even the old commands telling you to go with him were resurfacing as you backed up further into his body. You felt Kilgrave smile next to you, knowing he was winning.

“Please, stop it,” Jessica requests, noting your terrified expression.

“Byrne,” Kilgrave chuckles. “Kiss me.”

With his hand on your neck he doesn't even give you the luxury of being repulsed. The impulse that settles in your brain is overwhelming and you turn your face, hand raised to Kilgrave's cheek and do exactly as he ordered. You kiss him like you would kiss Frank, hot and heavy, the passion bleeding through the movements.

“Stop,” Kilgrave commands and you're able to pull yourself away. You feel ashamed, dirty even that you couldn't resist.

“Are you fucking happy now?” Jessica hisses. “Traumatising women is all you ever do.”

“Oh that kiss wasn't the kiss of a traumatised woman, Jones,” Kilgrave laughs, taking a section of your hair and twirling it. “I'd say she was very much into it judging by how she threw herself on me.”

Your eyes go wide as you try to show your protest to this Jessica woman. She catches the look straight away and you see her face flash in hurt, anger and past memories. You highly suspected she'd been on the receiving end of Kilgrave's affections before and you doubted that it was ever consensual at any point.

“Now!” Jessica suddenly shouts and something flies through the air, hitting Kilgrave in the neck.

He staggers to the side, in utter shock before his legs give out and he collapses on the street.

“Jones!” he calls. “Jessica, what did you do?!”

His eyelids flutter and he slumps over, completely knocked out.

A man you hadn't spotted before comes running over and checks on Kilgrave as Jessica walks towards you.

“You ok?” she asks, real concern on her face.

You try to force sounds back into your mouth and find you're released from Kilgrave's control, “No but I will be.”

You stalk over to the slumped body, pushing the man out of the way and deliver two firm punches to his face, just like Frank taught you. You stand up, glaring at the figure on the floor.

“Satisfying isn't it?” Jessica smirks, noting the bruises already forming on Kilgrave's face.

“Who the fuck is he?” you ask.

“Let's just say he's a villain,” she answers cagily. “Simpson, get him in the truck.”

The man you assume to be Simpson picks up Kilgrave before stuffing him into the back of a van. “Come on, we've gotta go,” he says.

“Gimme a minute,” Jessica calls back before turning to face you full on. “You, you resisted him.”

“Not enough,” you say bitterly, wiping at your mouth to try and get the taste of him off.

“Don't beat yourself up about it,” she says firmly. “Most people would've immediately given in. I sure did to start with.”

“Why can I do it then?” you ask, curiously.

“No fucking clue,” she shrugs. “You're not...I mean, you don't have superpowers or anything right?”

“Not that I know of,” you answer truthfully.

“Then I've got no answers for you,” she says. “Just stay away from the streets for a while ok? At least until I deal with this prick.”

“Don't have to tell me twice,” you laugh bitterly. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” she scoffs. “I'm nobody's hero.”

With that she turns on her heels and gets into the van which peels out of the parking spot and down the busy street.

You're left completely dazed and confused by what just happened. Vigilantes, sure, blind lawyers who had super senses, sure but mind control? Really? If you hadn't of just experienced it you would've called yourself crazy for entertaining the idea. You felt like your whole world had been slightly blown open.  
Just looking around, you saw the residual effects of Kilgrave's influence as thirty sharp objects clatter to the floor and all those people burst into confused chatter.

Your phone starts ringing and you see it's Frank.

“Hey,” you say, trying to force the happiness back into your voice.

“You ok, girl?” he asks. “You been there an awfully long time.”

“I'm fine,” you lie. “We just got talking about the transfer. I'll be on my way back now.”

“'Aight, I gotta hug waitin' for ya,” Frank says warmly.

“You'd better,” you say. “See you soon.”

You hang up, feeling like the world's worst girlfriend. You knew if you told him exactly what had happened that he'd put Kilgrave straight at the top of his hit list and you'd have to go through another warzone so to speak. You didn't want Frank anywhere near him. You were afraid that all it would take would be one small suggestion and Frank would blow his brains out without question. On the other hand, you were a fucking wreck right now and he'd notice that as soon as you came in. You'd have to be economical with the truth.

You walk back, stopping in the expensive bakery to pick up some sweet treats that you knew he liked but would never buy himself. Feeling a little more centred, you head home.

  
  


**  
  
The second you get through the door, Frank is on you with small affectionate kisses and you almost drop everything you're carrying.

“Hey hey! Be careful!” you say, steadying the box of cakes.

“I just missed ya, darlin',” he smiles. “You ain't been outta my sight for three weeks, I'm allowed to miss ya, right?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “Got you something.”

You hand the box over and Frank opens it, his eyes widening.

“Shit, Byrne, these are pricey!” he cries.

“You're worth it,” you smile, before moving past him and going into the bedroom, stripping every item of clothing off that Kilgrave had touched before redressing in comfier clothes. You felt a little better after that.

You walk back out into the living room and Frank is sat on the coach, digging into the small delicate cupcakes. You sit down next to him and sigh. He catches it immediately and looks up into your face searchingly.

“Somethin' happen?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “Something did.”

Frank sits up rigid and discards the cake, taking your hands in his, “Tell me.”

“Jimmy'd just left because his wife called and then this asshole shows up and sits down at my table demanding I buy him a drink.”

“What the fuck?!” Frank breathes.

“I know, and then he starts telling me this sob story about this girl who doesn't love him and he started to get threatening, asking me to kiss him and shit like that.”

“But you're ok?” he presses.

“Yeah I dealt with it,” you smile. “Won't be seeing him again.”

Frank's muscles relax a little, “Fuck, I mean, can't the goddamn universe give ya one day off. I knew this would happen.”

“Frank, look at me, do you see any new injuries?” you say, holding your arms out for inspection.

“Nah,” he answers after scrutinising your body.

“I'm ok, really,” you smile. “I'm a big tough girl, I tie my own shoes and everything.”

Frank snorts, “I see that. You got bruises on your knuckles.”

“Well I said I dealt with the guy,” you smirk.

“That's ma girl,” Frank laughs. “Don't put up with shit from nobody.”

He kisses you and you throw yourself full force into that kiss, desperate to erase the memory of Kilgrave. This is the kiss of a man who loves you, who'd never harm you and who also had a large amount of icing still stuck on his lips.

“You taste good,” you giggle.

“Well fuck darlin', if that's all I have to do to get ya to jump on me like that, I'll eat a whole bunch more,” he grins.

“As long as you save me the red velvet one,” you tease.

“Fuck naww, girl, you're gonna have to fight me for it,” Frank says, playfully pushing you backwards.

You playfight with each other for a time until Frank pins you down on the coach, holding your arms above your head with one hand. He takes the red velvet cupcake and holds it over you.

“Looks like I won,” he mocks.

“Maybe I'm not so in the mood for cake any more,” you wink.

“Goddamn Byrne,” Frank growls. “You're gonna wear me out.”

“Oh well I was just gonna say I want to cuddle and watch terrible b-movies,” you tease. “What were you thinking about?”

Frank gives a full on belly laugh, “Jesus Christ, darlin', you're somethin'. Come on then.”

He lets up on your wrists, leaning back against the side of the sofa and he pulls you to lie on him with your back to his chest before softly kissing your cheek, “I'm glad you're ok.”

“Me too,” you smile.

In Frank's arms you felt completely safe again. You hated that you'd lied to him but it really was for his own good. You'd just have to tell this one to your police approved therapist instead, not that he'd believe it. You'd just stay in for the next few days until things died down. You sincerely hoped you'd never run across Kilgrave again.

You shiver slightly and Frank looks down at you.

“Cold, darlin'?” he asks.

“A little,” you lie.

Frank pulls the blanket that rests over the back of the couch onto you and tucks you in tight.

“Love you, Frank,” you murmur.

Frank kisses the top of your head, “Love ya too, girl.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossovers, fun or nah?
> 
> (Also Kilgrave is spelt as it is in the show, not as in the comics, just for reference!)


	15. Silence in the Boutique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding is fast approaching but a surprising letter makes you turn to the only other person who knows your lifestyle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long but it evolved into a HUGE monster chapter.
> 
> Warnings: Violence, rough smut, mild kink.
> 
> Expect some tooth rotting fluff thrown in for good measure.
> 
> I've given up saying there might only be one chapter left at this point because I'm enjoying writing Castle & Byrne so much haha.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos, hits and lovely comments so far! I really appreciate it <3
> 
> \- TLP x
> 
> (Grammar/spelling yadda yadda, I suck at proofreading generic disclaimer)

It's early when Jimmy comes round the house. You're really not expecting it and you're engaged in a full out pillow warfare skirmish with Frank who's practising his tactical manoeuvres 'in case I need them again'. Honestly in the last few weeks you've felt you've actually had enough official marine training that you could go out onto the front line yourself.

“Tha fuck's that?” Frank calls from his hiding space in the kitchen pantry.

“No idea,” you shout back from your spot underneath the couch. “I'll go check.”

“Nuh uh, you're stayin' put,” Frank says, his voice getting louder as he leaves the pantry and makes his way to the front door.

You roll out from under the sofa and he gives you a bemused chuckle as he sees you on the floor.

“Not a bad spot, Byrne. Wouldn'ta checked there,” he praises.

“Being smaller than you has its advantages,” you smirk.

The doorbell rings again and Frank shakes himself out of the game you were playing, grabbing his pistol from the sideboard and stuffing it into the back of his jeans. He was still extremely wary of anyone visiting, considering not many people knew you both lived here.

He opens the door and Jimmy is standing there with a carrier bag.

“Oh!” Jimmy says. “Erm, hi....Pete?” At least he remembered to use Frank's pseudonym.

Frank nods, “Yep, Pete, that's me.”

“Is Byrne around?” Jimmy asks, a little unsure of how to take Frank's hulking presence in the door frame.

“If she ain't commando crawling under the sofa no more, yeah,” Frank laughs, moving backwards to let Jimmy in. “Hey darlin'? Your partner's here.”

You scramble up off the floor, dusting yourself down.

“What the fuck were you guys doing or do I not wanna know?” Jimmy asks confused.

Frank claps a huge hand down on Jimmy's shoulder and the guy legitimately jumps an inch off the ground in fright, “Just horsin' around. Showin' her some covert strategy tactics.”

“Nothing freaky, I promise,” you giggle.

“Right....” Jimmy says.

“Sit down you goof,” you grin.

Jimmy gladly throws himself onto the couch.

“You wanna beer or somethin'?” Frank asks, moving to the kitchen again.

“Uh no, thanks. I gotta drive back. Would kill for a coffee though if you're offering?” Jimmy replies.

“That I can do,” Frank hums, disappearing into the other room.

Jimmy waits until he can no longer see the back of Frank before half whispering, “Shit I am never gonna get used to the fact you're all domestic with The Punisher.”

“You will,” you nod wisely. “Honestly, if you get talking to him enough you'll forget he ever was The Punisher sometimes.”

“And did you forget?” Jimmy asks.

“No,” you admit. “But then I saw everything first hand, didn't I? I mean, after all the gangs were wiped out at least.”

“I suppose. You managed to get out to the shrink much?”

“A couple of times but apparently I'm 'well on the road to mental recovery with my support network in place',” you parrot off. “Bunch of learned bullshit to say I have friends to help me.”

Jimmy laughs loudly, “Ohhh boy, yeah they're really something. Paid thousands of dollars just to reword some advice your grandma woulda given you.”

“Ain't that the truth,” you chuckle.

Frank pops his head back in briefly, “Hey...uh...Jimmy right?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy nods.

“Black or with milk?”

“Milk. If it's black I'll be up all fucking night and my old lady will have to smother me to get some peace,” Jimmy grins.

“I wouldn't put it past Jen,” you say, turning round to wink at Frank who gives you a shy smile and disappears once more.

“Anyway, I was in work yesterday and you got mail piling up at your desk so Sarge asked me to drop it off,” Jimmy says, digging into the bag and pulling out a bunch of letters. “Also, I talked it over with Jen and I think the 17th is a go, she's really keen.”

“Really?” you exclaim.

“Yeah, I'm gonna drop by Sarge's office tomorrow and hash it out with him but it's pretty much a done deal on the family side,” Jimmy smiles widely. “You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Fuck yeah!” you grin. “Jimmy, I'm so fucking glad you're coming with me.”

“Well I mean, you took two bullets for me,” Jimmy says, scratching his head. “I'd say that makes you a really goddamn good friend and I'd be crazy to let you leave without me.”

“So I'm your personal bulletproof vest, huh?” you tease.

Frank comes back in the room, expertly carrying three steaming mugs and sets them down. You find it adorable that he's remembered you prefer cocoa and you even see a couple of marshmallows swimming in the top. He flashes you a knowing smirk as he sits down on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“Thanks,” Jimmy says, graciously gesturing with the cup.

“No problem,” Frank husks out, sipping his own black coffee straight as it is. You wonder sometimes how he doesn't burn his mouth off.

“And no I don't consider you a bulletproof vest,” Jimmy says, scrunching his eyes up in a childish way. “You're more like the Riggs to my Murtaugh.”

Frank chuckles, “I can really see that. She's a total hot rod.”

“What the hell are you guys on about?” you ask bewildered.

“Lethal Weapon, dummy,” Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Come on, we watched it after we did that flasher case, remember? We snuck a crate into the break room.”

“Oh right!” you laugh. “I wasn't paying attention. Nolan brought that massive pizza pie in.”

Jimmy looks at Frank with an exasperated expression, “You gotta brush up her knowledge of films. It's fucking dire. I can't have a partner that doesn't get my references.”

“I ain't gonna try and get her to do shit,” Frank snorts. “She don't wanna do somethin', it ain't gettin' done.”

You fold your arms, a smug smile on your face and Jimmy just bursts into laughter.

“Good luck marrying this one then,” he says to Frank. “She's gonna walk all over you.”

“I fully expect her to,” Frank says with a wry grin, drinking more of his coffee. “I know what I let myself in for.”

Jimmy's phone starts blaring and he excuses himself, walking into the kitchen. You assumed Jen was calling him from the way he was talking.

“So that's him, huh?” Frank murmurs to you. “Didn't get much of a chance to speak in the basement n' all.”

“Yeah that's him,” you nod.

“Seems a decent guy,” Frank says. “Kinda the class joker type, right?”

“He never used to be,” you muse. “He was one of those supercops, you know? In line for promotion waaaay up the chain and he always did fuck tons of overtime but since he had his second kid he's mellowed out a lot.”

“Kids'll do that to ya,” Frank laughs softly. “You could be the scariest sonavabitch in the world but when you got a little girl askin' ya to play tea party, you're gonna goddamn play tea party.”

You return the laugh but you don't mention anything further. The subject of Frank's kids is never something you like to dwell on a lot. He's been opening up slowly to you about them but you weren't at the stage where they were an open topic of conversation.

Jimmy comes back in, “Ah sorry, Jen's busting my balls here. She needs me to pick up Cody in a little bit so I should probably head off.”

Frank stands up, “Hey, you got a minute you can spare?”

“Uh...sure?” Jimmy says, a little thrown off by the question.

“Just need ta talk 'bout somethin',” Frank says, gesturing towards the kitchen.

Both men leave and you take the opportunity to sort through the letters. Some are Get Well Soon cards from fellow colleagues, one is an offer from a newspaper to talk about knowing Frank Castle, another is generic hate mail from an anti-Punisher group which you rapidly tear to shreds and finally you get to the last envelope and your heart stops.

It's purple.

You feel stupid for making the association but your mind immediately darts to Kilgrave. You pick it up with trepidation and open it, pulling out the crisp white card with its shining metallic purple ink.

  


_To the future Mrs Castle.  
Best Wishes,_

_K ~_

  


Oh fuck....it was him. He'd found you. Even worse than that, he knew you were marrying a supposed dead man. Your heart starts beating wildly until you try to rationalise yourself. He only knew where your station was, he didn't know where you lived as you'd not even told your Sarge and you'd be transferring imminently with the only person who actually knew where the house was. It'd take a lot for him to track you down again.

Still....

You couldn't shake the feeling of dread that crept over you. In your panic you jump up, quickly shoving the envelope into your small rucksack that you carry around. You needed to talk to somebody about this, someone who would understand. You couldn't tell Frank, not just yet, not unless this got worse.

Your hand closes on your purse and you open it, digging out the business card that was your answer. You fire off a text to Matt.

  


**Byrne: Hey, it's Byrne. Listen, I need to talk to you about something in confidence. Could we meet sometime?**

  


You hastily stuff your cell into your pocket as the two men come back in, Jimmy joking around and Frank smiling slightly more than he was before.

“Finished braiding each other's hair?” you tease.

“Yeah, I want a refund though,” Jimmy sasses back. “He braided it so tight I lost all my hair. My Rapunzel dreams are long gone.”

“Fucking smartass,” you laugh.

Jimmy dares to give you a quick hug before he waves goodbye and walks out of the door.

“What was that about?” you ask.

“Just weddin' stuff,” Frank says cryptically. “Don't ask any more questions, darlin', you know I ain't gonna answer them.”

“Spoilsport,” you say, poking your tongue out.

“Ohhh,” Frank laughs. “You've got some attitude on ya today, huh girl?”

“Yup,” you nod. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Frank just shakes his head, replacing the pistol into the sideboard before turning back round to you. Emboldened, you press him further.

“Nothing huh? Just gonna let that slide?” you tease.

“Naww girl,” Frank chuckles darkly. “I'm just givin' ya ten seconds to run before I unleash hell.”

You didn't have to be told twice. You spring away from the sideboard, dashing towards the garden at the back of the house. You've built up a lot of stamina recently and your running is getting better so you make it out of the door before he catches up to you, his strong arms ensnaring your waist. He lifts you off of the ground and growls into your ear.

“Gotcha.”

You squirm, trying to pull him off balance but he's caught you in the perfect spot where you're completely helpless.

“Think it's time ya cool off, darlin',” Frank laughs and he starts walking with you towards the pool.

“No! Don't you dare!” you say, twisting in his grip.

“You got any electronics, I'd suggest ya throw them on the grass now,” Frank says.

You hastily dig your phone out of your pocket, pitching it onto the deck chair and Frank then hoists you over his shoulder, going to the poolside.

“I'm warning you, Castle,” you spit. “Don't throw me in there!”

“Or what?” Frank snorts. “You can't do shit right now. I mean look...”

He pushes your body back further over his shoulder until you're dangling upside down and then he gets a firm grip of your ankles, swinging you round to his front.

“Put me down!” you cry out, the blood rushing to your head.

“Like this?” Frank says and drops you into the water.

You come back up to the surface, spluttering, “You asshole! Why the fuck am I marrying you?!”

Frank squats down on the edge, laughing hard, “Your face, darlin'!”

You duck down under the water, coiling your body on the bottom of the pool before springing up and grabbing his shirt. He flails in surprise and you brace your feet horizontally on the pool walls, throwing yourself, and him, backwards. He crashes into the water with no elegance before he surfaces again.

“Fuck! This shit is cold!” he chatters.

“Serves you right,” you hiss, using your arm to fling a wave of water at him.

He coughs before his face splits into a wide grin, “That what we doin', huh? Fightin' like two kids in a summer camp?”

“You started it,” you say mockingly.

“And I'm gonna finish it,” he chuckles, taking a deep breath and disappearing from view.

Not a moment later you see a black shadow moving towards you under the water and two firm hands grip you, hoisting you up into the air as he comes back up.

“Gotcha again,” he smirks.

“Or have I got you?” you say, wrapping your legs around his torso and squeezing.

“You certainly got my attention at least, darlin',” Frank says.

“Still cold?” you tease.

“Not any more,” Frank chuckles. “Shit I'm tryna not fuck your brains out today, girl. Can't be leavin' any marks when you gotta pick a dress tomorrow.”

“Oh what a shame,” you smirk. “You'll just have to suffer for now.”

Frank lets out a low growl, his hand knotting in your hair as he kisses you hungrily, “You're a fuckin' tease, Byrne. Expect payback.”

“Looking forward to it,” you laugh. “Now get me the hell out of this cold water.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Frank grins. “Hold on.”

He walks to the pool steps and starts climbing up them, you clinging onto his body until he's back on the grass. You let yourself slip to the ground and stand up, shaking the water from your head.

“Stay there, I'll get a towel,” Frank says, stripping his t-shirt and jeans off.

You openly perv over his ass as he walks back towards the door. He turns around, catching your look but you don't avert your gaze. He makes a brief display of flexing his back muscles for you before laughing and disappearing inside.

You take the opportunity to retrieve your phone and see Matt has texted you back.

  


**Matt: Of course. Frank's asked me to accompany you tomorrow anyway. Not sure if he's told you that yet or not. You said a while ago I could tell you about DD stuff, does that still stand? I need to confide in someone too.**

  


**Byrne: Yeah it still stands, you can tell me anything and no Frank conveniently forgot to mention that.**

  


You wait for Frank to come back, shivering slightly in the summer breeze until you hear your text tone beep again.

  


**Matt: Because of course the blind guy is the best person to take to a wedding dress shop...and thank you. See you tomorrow.**

  


You snort out loud. You were glad Matt had a sense of humour about his blindness, although seeing him move, it really wasn't much of an impairment.

You're deep in your thoughts when a towel smacks you in the face.

“Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy,” Frank chides with the biggest shit eating smirk. “Don't give up the day job for baseball, darlin'.”

“That was cheap,” you say narrowing your eyes.

“Ain't my fault you were daydreamin',” Frank shrugs.

You decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, peeling off your jeans and making a great show of wriggling out of your soaked to the skin top, your breasts bouncing slightly. You look at Frank who's regarding you with an almost animalistic glare.

“Not fair, darlin',” he grunts. “Ya look so fuckin' good like that.”

“You can get me tomorrow evening,” you laugh, wrapping the towel around you.

“Oh that's a fuckin' promise,” Frank growls. “You ain't gonna be walkin' straight the day after.”

“And they say romance is dead,” you laugh, pushing past him to walk back into the house.

You shower, getting the chlorine out of your hair and then redress in some warm clothes before padding back out to the living room. Frank is sat in just some sweatpants, his legs draped over the coffee table watching something on TV.

“Hey..uhh..” he starts and you notice he's holding his phone in one hand.

You highly suspect Matt has sent him a reminder text to tell you about tomorrow but you keep quiet about it.

“Yeah?” you prompt.

“Since..ya know, you had creepy guy at the café. I kinda asked Red if he'd go with ya tomorrow. Hope that's ok. I just didn't want anythin' happenin'. That's shit's important,” he babbles.

“Frank, stop, it's fine,” you laugh, sitting next to him.

He loops his arm around your shoulder, pulling you onto his bare chest, “I just want my girl to have a stress free day whilst she picks out her weddin' dress.”

“You're cute sometimes,” you grin.

“Cute?!” he mock cries. “I'm a fuckin' decorated marine, girl, I ain't cute.”

“You don't fool me, Frank Castle,” you say, slyly looking up at him. “You're a big softie.”

“Only 'cause you made me this way,” he laughs, kissing your forehead.

“Sure,” you say sarcastically and he taps you lightly on the nose in mock chastisement.

You both settle in for the night.

  


**

  


“You almost ready, darlin'?” Frank calls.

“Yeah, one sec,” you say, slipping the airy summer dress over your head. You figured you'd need something easy to get on and off in the boutique.

You rush out to see Matt's already patiently waiting on the couch. Frank lets out a low whistle.

“Well shit darlin', why you never dress like that normally?” he chuckles.

“Because it's usually too cold,” you retort with a grin. “Shall we, Matt?”

“Sounds good,” Matt smiles in his usual charming way. He gets up and Frank guides him towards the door before turning back to you.

“You be safe, girl,” Frank says warningly, giving you a possessive kiss goodbye.

“Always try to be,” you smile as you pull your jacket on.

Frank smacks your ass as you leave and you just roll your eyes.

Matt offers you the crook of his arm and you take it as he unfurls his walking stick with one deft movement. It's oddly soothing walking through the crowded streets, hearing the rhythmic tapping of his cane.

“So what do you need to talk about?” he asks after you've been walking for five minutes.

“Have you ever heard of a man called Kilgrave?” you ask.

“Should I have?” Matt says puzzled.

“Maybe not but he's dangerous,” you mutter. “I know you'll probably think I'm a lunatic for saying this but he's got mind control powers.”

The rhythm of the cane slightly falters before resuming, “That's no more crazy than me having super senses, Byrne. It's worrying though.”

“I ran across him recently,” you say. “He only needs to speak a suggestion to you and it's like this overwhelming urge to do what he says. You can't even think about anything else.”

“Did he do anything to you?” Matt asks, his mouth becoming a hard line.

“Kinda,” you admit. “He got really mad when I was resisting his control and he tried to get a kid to run out into the road.”

Matt stops completely, “He did that?”

“I had to physically restrain the boy,” you tell him. “He had the whole café hold sharp objects to their necks as collateral after that and this woman called Jessica showed up, I think she used to be deep under his control but broke free.”

“And this Jessica, she helped you escape?” Matt presses.

“Yeah, she got him with a tranquilliser and stuffed him in a van,” you say.

“But something else happened right?” Matt asks. “I can hear it in your breathing and your heartbeat.”

You tug on Matt's arm to pull him to the side of the sidewalk, next to a building and he complies.

“Yeah it did. He was desperate to make this Jessica girl jealous so he forced me to kiss him,” you say, the blush of shame creeping across your face. “And I just couldn't stop. It was fucking awful.”

Matt's hand comes under your chin as he whips off his glasses and forces you to look at him, “Hey, it's not your fault, ok? Don't ever think for one second that it is. If this guy can force people to do dangerous things you're lucky he didn't demand you do more.”

“I know, I know,” you say, sighing. “I just still feel...dirty about it.”

“I'm guessing you've not told, Frank,” Matt assumes.

“I can't have him go on the warpath again,” you say quietly. “This guy...he's insidious. All it would take was one well placed sentence and Frank'd be dead.”

“I get that,” Matt nods. “I know you feel guilty about it but it's the right thing to do to keep it from him. Frank's not the type of man to let something like this go.”

“I'm glad I can tell someone at least,” you say. “Yesterday my beat partner dropped off my mail from the station and Kilgrave'd sent me a letter.”

“He found out where you worked?” Matt says concerned.

“First thing he did after making me buy him some tea was ask who I was and what I did,” you say. “But no one apart from my beat partner knows where I live and I'm transferring soon so I don't think he'd find me that easily again. Still it kinda shit me up seeing it.”

“I have no doubt,” Matt muses quietly. “This guy, describe him to me.”

You feel a little silly rattling off physical qualities to a blind man but you do so anyway, trying to put as much sensory detail as possible, “About 1.85 metres, lithe physique, British accent, medium toned voice, gelled up hair, strong expensive cologne, dress shoes, purple designer suit. I think he digs purple quite a lot because the letter was the same colour as well as the ink.”

“That helps,” Matt nods. “I'll look out for that.”

You place your hands on his shoulders, “Matt, promise me if you hear that accent you'll run the other way.”

“I promise,” Matt smiles slightly as he replaces his glasses. “We'd better start moving again.”

You wander through the crowds once more.

“So what's your drama?” you ask. “Now that I've unloaded my baggage onto you I mean.”

“Oh you know,” Matt chuckles amiably. “Yakuza, the Japanese Roxxon and ninjas from an ancient order hell bent on world domination. The usual.”

“I'm sorry...ninjas?” you say in bewilderment.

“So mind control Brits are fine but ancient ninjas are out?” Matt smiles wryly.

“I'm just surprised is all,” you laugh. “So do these ninjas have a name?”

“They call themselves The Hand,” Matt tells you. “They want to create the ultimate weapon which they call 'The Black Sky'. They killed someone I was close to...”

He trails off and you squeeze his arm a little more firmly.

“I'm sorry,” you offer.

“It's alright,” he shrugs. “It's not your cross to bear.”

“Neither is it something to torture yourself with,” you remind him. “You'll stop them. I have faith in you.”

Matt smiles widely, showing off his perfectly white teeth, “I'm glad Frank brought you into my life, even if it did happen in the worst goddamn way.”

“I'm resisting the urge so hard to make a bad pun,” you laugh.

“Go on,” Matt nudges you. “Indulge me.”

“Our friendship started with a bang,” you say, grimacing before you even get the last word out.

“Oh wow, you're right that was bad,” Matt chuckles. “Don't take up a career in comedy.”

  


You eventually reach the boutique and the manager makes a grand fuss over Matt being there, assuming he's the groom.

“No, ma'am, I'm just a friend and besides,” Matt says, taking his glasses off. “Not like I can see the blushing bride to be.”

The woman stumbles over herself with fervent apologies before scurrying off with you to the back. She takes you through rows and rows of dresses but nothing really jumps out at you. It's all so...princessy and that was not your style in the slightest. You can tell the manager is getting slightly frustrated as you continually decline her picks.

“Have you got something a little more old fashioned?” you ask.

Her eyes light up before she scurries off. She returns with a dress that you instantly fall in love with.

“I wanna try this,” you say.

The look of relief on her face is duly noted.

The dress was very similar to what your grandma wore on her wedding day. After she died, you'd often look at old photos of her, smiling at how pretty she was in her younger days.

It was a long gown with lace sleeves and lace that spread over a silk bodice which corseted into a tiny waist and a full long skirt. The second you try it on you knew this was it.

“Uhh, shall I reveal it?” the woman asks, looking past the curtain to Matt.

“Why not,” you laugh.

The woman announces you and Matt respectfully rises from his chair.

“How do you feel?” Matt asks.

“I really like it,” you grin. “Reminds me of my grandma.”

“You were close?” he says.

“Very. She taught me a lot of useful skills like sewing, baking, how to win a fistfight quickly.”

Matt laughs, “Sounds like a character.”

“Oh she was,” you smile.

“Describe your dress to me,” Matt prompts.

You give him the most detailed description you can and you can see him imagining it.

“This may sound weird but can I touch it?” he asks.

“Go for it,” you shrug.

He walks up and you take his hand, letting him know where you were in relation to him. His fingers travel gently up the length of your sleeve and down your side.

“Lace and satin,” he nods. “Good choice. Very classic and elegant.”

“I thought so too,” you say.

“Hey, can I also...map your face out?” he asks shyly. “Kinda curious to know what you actually look like. Frank's never described you much apart from in overtly sexual ways.”

“Sounds like Frank,” you laugh. You know this must be a little intimate for him to ask but you oddly trusted Matt not to be weird with it. Before you agree, you describe your hair colour and eye colour to him and he nods, taking it all in. “Ok, go ahead.”

“Close your eyes, I don't want to poke them by mistake,” he smirks.

You do so and feel his fingers tracing every line of your face from your brow to your chin and to your ears. He steps back and gives you a wry grin.

“I think I got it now. Frank's a lucky guy. Sure you still wanna marry him?”

“Are you propositioning me, Matt?” you chuckle.

“Can't blame a guy for trying,” he shrugs endearingly. “I think Frank's going to have to pick his jaw off the floor when he sees you in this.”

“You know for a blind guy, you're the best bridal wingman out there,” you say.

Matt bursts into throaty laughter, “Not something anyone's ever said about me.”

You put down the deposit for the dress before walking back out with Matt. You decide to take a shortcut through some of the streets as it's getting towards rush hour and the crowds are thickening.

You're walking along pleasantly chatting when Matt throws out his arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Byrne, you run now,” he says in a serious voice.

“What, why?” you ask, looking around for the danger but not seeing anything.

“Just go,” he hisses, pushing you backwards. “It's not safe here.”

You want to protest but you also knew Frank would be immortally pissed if you tried to help when you promised to be safe. You turn back up the alleyway you'd been walking down and make to run to the main road but a man in black clothes drops in front of you.

“Shit!” you cry out, letting Matt know you hadn't made it out.

“Watch out!” Matt warns, fending off two attackers. “It's the Hand!”

  


**

  


Frank is bored...more than bored, he's antsy. Curtis has cancelled today's group session so he's been stuck around the house. There was only so many times he could hit the mini gym he'd made.

He tried to keep himself occupied but he had no more planning to do for the wedding and watching TV shows was never as fun without you there. He found your expressive reactions endearing and often found himself watching you more than any show or movie.

He knew he really shouldn't but he opened up the ArchAngel app, watching as you and Matt presumably did whatever you were doing in the boutique. At least you had got there ok.

“Appreciate it, Red,” he mutters out loud.

His leg is bouncing with the pent up energy. He needed to wear himself out doing something. Normally that something was you but he'd put himself on a ban because he knew he couldn't control his roughness. You brought out the primal side in him too much. He'd love to be able to keep you in bed for an entire day, leaving his marks all over you but he wanted you to look perfect, unspoilt for the big day. He owed you that much.

His mind wandered to the honeymoon plans and he briefly lost himself in a daydream. He was itching to reclaim his spot on the side of your neck, just where it meets your collarbone. Every time he looked at the raised scar from Russo it bugged the shit out of him. You were his. His girl. He couldn't wait for two weeks time when he could show you that sentiment properly.

“Fuckin' down boy,” he growled as he could feel himself getting hard at the thought. “Shit...”

He needed to get out. It was doing him no good being cooped up in here. He'd go for a walk and maybe conveniently bump into you and Matt as you left the boutique.

He grabbed his jacket before his hand hesitated over his baseball cap for a second. Maybe you were right. He didn't need to try and hide his face any more. He was officially dead for the second time and practically unrecognisable again. He just shrugged before walking out of the door.

As he moved down the street, it was kinda liberating to be out in the open and walking freely, no skulking around, no awkward shuffles, no changes of gait. Nobody gave him much thought except to openly stare at how broad he was and he was used to that anyhow.

He checked his phone and saw you were starting to move, in fact, you were one street away and heading down an alleyway shortcut. He jogged a little quicker, making it seem like he was out on a run as he passed the intersection and then tried to find the alleyway entrance. He frowned a little as he saw the little dot had stopped straight dead centre in the passageway.

Kinda strange...

He took the turning into the alleyway and faltered as an unbridled rage crept through his body.

  


**

  


“They have katanas,” Matt shouted to you. “Be careful of them!”

You barely had time to register as you heard the sing of unsheathed metal and you threw your torso backwards, narrowly avoiding being bisected. Fuck that was close! You twisted your hip, throwing all of your power into a heavy uppercut which catches the guy unawares and he stumbles backwards before regaining his footing and menacingly swinging the sword to and fro.

“Stay alive for a bit longer!” Matt calls and you hear a heavy thud as one of the Hand goes flying into an open dumpster. “I'll get to you as soon as I can get rid of this guy!”

Not that that helped you right now when you had a trained ninja with a weapon in front of you. The guy fakes out a movement and you're quick to react, catching his bluff and directing a well placed kick straight to the weak point of his femur, just like Frank had taught you. You hear the bone crack and splinter but the guy just shrugs it off like it was nothing.

Holy fuck! Were these guys on PCP or something?!

You jump backwards as another slash comes dangerously close to spilling your intestines onto the floor. This was very very bad. You were at a serious disadvantage here.

You hunched down low, preparing your legs to spring away at a moment's notice and the katana shoots out with almost unnatural speed, straight for your heart. You twist your torso, grabbing the guys arm and bringing it down hard over your knee. Another crunch of shattered bones and still the guy keeps his grip on the sword.

“Why the fuck aren't they going down?!” you yell to Matt, kicking the guy's feet out from underneath him but he just somersaults out of your grasp.

“Knock them out!” Matt shouts as he disarms another man using his cane and pirouettes bring the stick heavily down onto the guy's head. “Knock them out and then we can run for it!”

Shit shit shit....remember what Frank told you. Assess the situation, look for exits, look for potential weapons, determine the enemy's weakness.

Your eyes land on a discarded piece of rebar and you dive for it. Not a moment later you feel the air churn behind you and know you just narrowly dodged another death blow. You grab the rebar, scrambling to your feet and use it to block a ferociously fast slash before using your raw strength to shove the guy back. In the two second window before he recovers himself you swing the rebar into his face and he staggers back into a dumpster. You don't give him any time to recuperate and pounce on him, using the rebar and jamming it into his throat, smashing his head against the heavy bin behind him, over and over until you can see his eyes roll back into his head.

“He's down!” you shout.

“Little busy here!” comes the strained reply and you see Matt is surrounded completely.

You don't hear the fresh Hand member who silently drops from the fire escape above you and sneaks up behind you. You do hear, however, that primal roar that reverberates down the alleyway. You know who it is, you've heard that sound many times.

Frank.

The guy stands no chance as an angry slab of pure muscle slams into him from the rear and starts dashing his head on the ground.

“Castle?!” Matt cries in surprise.

Frank looks up, grunting wildly, his eyes ablaze. Oh shit...you instinctively knew he'd gone to his dark place, the place where only The Punisher reigned. From the faint grin you even suspected he'd missed this as he gives the guy's head once last thunderous smash on the concrete before leaping up.

“Frank?” you tentatively say.

“Byrne, get tha fuck home,” he growls.

You ignore him, preparing to throw yourself fully into the melee ahead as Matt dodges attacks from all sides.

A strong hand grabs the back of your jacket and yanks you to the side. Frank is breathing hard, eyes blown with adrenalin as he rasps directly into your face, “Get. Home. Now. I ain't gonna tell ya again.”

“No,” you shake your head, shucking out of the jacket and away from his grip. “You'll just have to cover my ass if you're that concerned.”

You're too quick as you dash away from his reaching hand and you go to a pallet near the main fight, splintering the wood with a swift kick and grabbing the makeshift plank. You smack the nearest guy you can with full force and he pitches to the side. You've learnt with these guys to not leave anything to chance so you bring the plank down upon him again, making sure he was well and truly out of the game.

You hear Frank's frustrated bellow behind you and knew you'd royally pissed him off. You weren't going to let Matt get killed though. You could see him slowing down as he wore himself out, defending from the constant onslaught.

One of the Hand turns to you, catching your presence and you barely have time to bring the plank up in front of your face before his katana lodges in it, sticking fast. You bring the plank to the ground so his arm has to follow and boot him in the face with your foot, the heel striking straight under his chin. His head ricochets backwards and he staggers, letting go of the sword. Without wasting a single moment you grab the hilt, swinging it upwards and the wood strikes him in the temple. He crumples to the floor.

“Whatever you're doing, keep doing it!” Matt says encouragingly.

There's only three left now.

Frank catches up to you and gives you a murderous glare. You stare him out defiantly before pointedly looking towards the bodies strewn around you. He follows your gaze and sighs, rolling his eyes heavily.

“Fuckin' fine but you don't like your weddin' pictures, remember I ordered you to go home,” he grunts.

“Noted,” you nod.

“Left one, slight limp, possible old fracture. Right one, young, fresher,” he says, hunching down and scanning the guys.

“I'll take the left,” you say.

“You fuckin' better,” he growls.

“You can yell at me afterwards, Frank,” you say exasperatedly. “Not the time to be shitty with me right now.”

“Not the time to be having a domestic either guys,” Matt grunts as he gets socked in the side by the hilt of a blade.

You don't say anything further. You dislodge the sword, throwing it to Frank. Frank was always better with a weapon in his hand. You steady the plank once more and dart around Matt, jabbing the splintered end of the wood into the left guy's abdomen. There's not even a cry of pain but at least he stops trying to kill Matt and turns his attention to you instead.

You wait for the swipe of the katana and duck, shuffling sideways and kicking viciously into the guy's knee. Frank was right. The guy's leg practically buckles on itself and he drops to the floor. Before you have a chance to deliver the knockout blow, Matt's cane comes sailing across, taking that action away from you.

All that's left is three unlikely people, panting hard amidst a pile of bodies. A cop, a soldier and a lawyer.

“We shouldn't stay here,” Matt rasps. “We need to move. Can we get to your place?”

“No, we can't. We don't know if there's more of them around and we don't wanna lead them back to us,” you say.

“Yes,” Matt nods, “Smart, sorry, I'm a little out of touch right now.”

“Come on,” Frank grunts. “Follow me.”

You take Matt's arm, leading him as quickly as you can push him with Frank at the front of the party. He makes sure to take the open route, fully in view of the crowds. You think you know where he's heading.

Eventually you come to the Community Centre where he has his meetings with Curtis and he opens the side door with a key he's got. Once everyone's inside he locks the door and there's a collective breath.

Well...there's a collective breath before Frank loses his shit.

“What the fuck was that?!” he yells, rounding on Matt.

“Hey, don't shout at him!” you call.

“I ain't even ready to start shoutin' at you yet, girl,” Frank hisses. “Quiet.”

“Look I didn't know that was going to happen, ok?” Matt says, throwing his glasses onto the floor as one of the lenses is bust.

“What kinda bullshit you gettin' mixed up in this time, huh Red?” Frank says, boxing him into the wall. “What kinda bullshit business is my girl gettin' dragged into?”

“They're called the Hand,” you say, walking towards Frank and forcefully yanking him away from Matt. “They're some mystical fucking ninjas that want to take over the world and Matt's the only one stopping them right now.”

“You knew about this?” Frank asks you with wide eyes.

“Only very recently,” you nod. “There's no way Matt could have known they were planning to ambush him today so can you please chill out? It's not his fault.”

“You want me to fuckin' chill out when you almost got cut open?” Frank scoffs, his fists curling.

“Frank, enough,” Matt says in a commanding voice that you didn't even think he was capable of. “I'm sorry she got involved in this but clearly she held her own and she saved me in doing so.”

“It shouldn't o' happened in the first fuckin' place,” Frank hisses.

“Oh just shut the fuck up!” you cry out in frustration. “Not like you didn't enjoy beating some guys up again.”

Frank blanches. He tries to form a response but ends up stuttering.

“I'm right, aren't I?” you sigh.

Frank just hangs his head, rubbing a hand over his hair nervously, “Yeah...”

“After the wedding, why don't you go help Matt?” you offer. “If you miss it that much, I mean.”

“I could use the help,” Matt nods. “Although maybe go easy on the shouting, it's kinda distracting when I'm trying to listen to where they're coming from.”

Frank considers it for a time, staring at the opposite wall, “Maybe, but I don't want no shit before we get married though. I'm tryna keep you away from that and god-fuckin'-damn girl you always find trouble.”

“More like trouble finds me,” you laugh.

“How did you find us by the way?” Matt asks, standing up straighter now that Frank wasn't bearing down on him.

“Got restless, went for a run,” Frank shrugs. “Was gonna try and get some shit for Byrne to make her cakes again.”

“You're a serious addict to my baking, Castle,” you roll your eyes.

“Hey, not my fault you make 'em fuckin' good,” Frank says with a wry smile.

The air feels less heavier now as the adrenalin from the fight and the tenseness from Frank's blow out seep away.

“You'll have to make me a cake sometime for the office,” Matt chuckles. “Foggy's been desperate to celebrate our tenth client.”

“Sure,” you laugh. “Just gimme your preference and I'll whip one up for you.”

“Thank you,” Matt smiles.

“Think we're in the clear?” you ask Frank.

“Don't see nothin',” Frank says, looking out of the window.

“I don't hear anyone,” Matt confirms. “I think we're good.”

“Hey, um, I'll order you a taxi back to your place,” you say to Matt.

“I would appreciate that. I have no idea where we are right now apart from it seems like a leisure centre?” he says, sniffing slightly.

“Yeah, community centre,” Frank nods. He goes to the back of the hall, digging behind a desk until he pulls out his favourite hoody and comes back over, throwing it to Matt. “More of a disguise for ya.”

Matt pulls it over his head. Despite being much smaller than Frank, it doesn't look too ridiculous, “Thanks, I'll return it when I can.”

“Listen, Red...” Frank starts. “Sorry for busting ya balls there-”

“No no, I get it,” Matt smiles amiably. “Gotta say though, she's a good fighter. More than you give her credit for.”

“I had good training,” you smirk, looking over at Frank who gives you a small chuckle.

“Ahhh,” Matt laughs. “So that's why you have a bruiser style.”

“Hey, it fuckin' works,” Frank grins. “Now get your ass out of here and I'll see you at the weddin'.”

You come over, hugging Matt, “Thanks for today. It was nice until..you know...ancient ninjas.”

Matt chuckles, “Right back at you. I would say stay out of trouble but that doesn't seemed to have ever worked for you.”

“Don't I know it,” you say.

Frank claps Matt on the shoulder, guiding him outside to the taxi and then comes back in, “You gonna fuckin' get home now or are ya gonna be insubordinate some more?”

“Insubordinate, wow,” you laugh. “I didn't realise I was that much of a bad girl.”

You love seeing the vein twitch in Frank's neck when he gets aroused, “Jesus, darlin', if I didn't know any better I'd say you get off on dangerous situations.”

“Trust me, I don't go looking for them,” you smirk.

Frank's instantly on you, hands gripping firmly on your hips, “Uh huh, or maybe you just get off on givin' me a heart attack.”

“I could think of much more fun ways to do that,” you tease.

“Fuck, girl,” Frank breathes and you can see him desperately try to rein himself in.

“You wanna hurt me, Frank?” you push. You knew the best way to calm Frank down was to completely drain his energy and you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't a little hyped up with a mixture of arousal and adrenalin. Maybe you did get off on being in danger, or maybe it was your body's natural way to relieve the stress. “If I've been such an...insubordinate girl that is?”

Frank's face is taken over by lust but he's still fighting to keep himself from jumping on you, “Byrne..fuck...why the fuck you doin' this to me? Huh?”

You wrap your hands around his neck and whisper in his ear, “Because I know exactly where the wedding dress covers.”

That's it. Frank's picking you up and taking you over to the desk, setting you down and driving his fingers into your hair, pulling your head backwards so you look straight into his dark eyes, “You fuckin' show me where it covers, right now.”

“My entire lower half is definitely safe,” you grin.

“Good,” Frank grunts, releasing your hair and flipping you over so you're lying with your chest flush against the desk.

He roughly yanks up your dress and pulls your underwear down with urgent ferocity so you're completely bare. His hand comes down hard on your ass and you moan a little.

“That's for disobeying,” he growls.

Smack!

“That's for getting yourself in danger again.”

Smack!

“That's for taking on a swordsman with your fuckin' fists like a dumbass.”

Smack!

“That's for making me shit scared.”

Smack!

“That's for sassing me out.”

Smack!

“What you got to say for yourself, huh?”

“Sorry,” you moan, enjoying the stinging sensation and the heat spreading across your cheeks.

Smack!

“Sorry what?” he says and you can hear the lustful mirth in his voice.

Oh well if he wanted to play this game...

“Sorry Sir,” you say sweetly.

“You're goddamn right you are,” he grunts. “Spread 'em.”

The second you do he's already unzipping his pants and he gives you no warning before he roughly drives his cock into you. You cry out, gripping the edge of the desk as he plows with brute force against you. The hands gripping your waist are almost crushing as he keeps you completely still.

“Ain't nobody usin' this place today,” Frank says, leaning over you and harshly nipping at your ear. “So you fuckin' let me know whose girl you are.”

“Yours, Frank,” you groan as he ruts particularly hard into you.

“Louder, girl,” he growls, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Yours!” you cry out.

You hear the dark rumble in his chest and he picks up his speed, slamming against you almost painfully. You cling onto the desk for dear life as your brain switches off completely.

Without warning Frank pulls out and drags you slightly away from the desk until only your forearms are resting on it. He sheathes himself back into you before growling, “Go on, girl, get yourself off. I wanna see ya.”

You don't hesitate to bring your fingers down your body to swirl around your aching clit. You start a tempo that matches Frank's brutal pace, moaning heavily.

“There's my good girl,” he praises, leaning over to kiss you between the shoulder blades.

It's barely any time until you start feeling the pressure creeping up in your abdomen. Fuck you must have been more aroused than you thought!

“Shit darlin', you're fuckin' beautiful,” Frank mutters, looking at your face as you bite down hard on your lip, your orgasm reaching its peak.

You clench around him, your body jerking with the aftershocks and he lets out a low grunt, driving deep into you. You feel the warmth of his cum flooding you before he pulls out and it starts trickling down your legs. God you're so glad you started on birth control recently, you think.

“You know, one o' these days you ain't gonna be able to solve an argument by seducin' me,” he laughs.

“Well until that day comes, I'll just have to have fun with it,” you giggle.

“Goddamn Byrne, you drive me insane,” he sighs, helping you back up and fixing your dress. “Lovin' ya is fuckin' intense.”

“I think you'll find loving me is amazing and the fucking is intense,” you grin.

“That too,” he laughs. “Shit, gotta admit though I feel better.”

“I knew you would,” you nod. “You were just too wound up is all.”

“Yeah you're prolly right,” he says, tucking himself away and rezipping his pants. “And you prolly right about me needing the fight too. When the honeymoon is over I'll speak to Red.”

“Sounds good,” you smile.

Frank grabs you, pulling you into his arms and squeezes tight before kissing you languidly, “Never a dull day around you, huh, darlin'?”

“Nope,” you grin. “But hey, at least I have a good teacher. I didn't get a single scratch on me.”

“'Aight,” Frank laughs. “I'm impressed. Now shall we get home?”

“Yeah,” you say, picking up your underwear and stuffing them in your bag.

“You're not gonna put those back on?” Frank asks, pointing to the bag.

“Nah,” you wink.

Frank whistles, “Shit I hit the jackpot.”

“Come on, let's get back,” you smirk.

Frank sighs before letting you out of the door and locking it behind him. He still insists on picking the heaviest trafficked streets all the way to the house until you get to your driveway. Something unexpected greets you.

“Micro?” you ask, seeing him waiting near the door with his car parked on the street.

“Hey,” he calls. “Although maybe drop the Micro? David will do just fine.”

You give him a hug which he definitely was not expecting because he tenses up incredibly and gives you an awkward pat on the back.

“Hey Lieberman,” Frank says warmly.

“Listen, can't stay long because Zach's got himself detention but I got what you asked for Frank,” he says, moving around to the backseat of his car.

“What did you ask for?” you look to Frank bemused.

“Well...” Frank says nervously, doing that hair ruffling thing he always does. “You know I'm...protective right?”

“Right...” you say, not understanding where this was going. “You've not got a tracker collar or some shit like that?”

“Fuck naww,” Frank laughs softly. “Nothin' like that. I just got somethin' to keep you and the house safe...and some company for me when you're at work.”

“Company?” you ask.

The question is answered for you as Micro leads a German Shepherd over to you. Your heart instantly melts. You loved dogs but you were never allowed one in your rental apartment.

“You got a dog?!” you squeal.

“You like him?” Frank asks, fiddling with his hands.

You bend down, stroking the dog and do an obscene amount of baby talk. The German Shepherd happily lets you pet him, his tongue lolling out in an adorably dumb kind of way.

“I think that's a yes,” Micro laughs. “I'll remember that trick with Sarah sometime.”

“Thanks Lieberman,” Frank smiles.

“Yeah yeah,” Micro scoffs, dismissing it. “I'm amazing, no need to thank me, Frank. Anyways, I'll catch you later. Enjoy the overgrown puppy.”

He drives off and Frank bends down, joining you in petting the dog.

“Can ya think of a name?” Frank asks.

“No,” you say truthfully. “Got any ideas?”

“Hmmm,” Frank muses. “All I got is names of my old dogs.”

“What about...Samson?” you offer. “Good name for a guard dog right?”

“Hey, Samson, I like it. Samson it is,” Frank nods. “Come on Samson, let's get you inside.”

You walk with the dog into the house and see that Frank's already kitted it out with pet friendly things. Holy shit, he was thorough!

Samson immediately goes to jump on the couch and rests there lazily. You laugh.

“Looks like he's already making himself at home. Part of the family.”

Frank turns to you, cupping your cheek and kissing you affectionately, “I like our little family.”

“Me too,” you grin. “Me too.”

 


	16. Silence at the Docks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You pay and visit to Nelson & Murdock and a familiar face crops up at the police station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Another monster chapter here! Sorry for the wait!
> 
> Warnings: Smut, violence, non-con triggers, heavy angst, PTSD
> 
> I recently set up an email which is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com if you want to send me a message privately, discuss anything or leave comments if you don't have an account :). I'm also open to some prompts for the future :) (Because this fic has a finite ending until Punisher Season 2)
> 
> Enjoy! <3  
> \- TLP x

Frank curls his arm around you more tightly as you lie on him on the couch. Maybe he'd worked you over too hard this morning because you never usually napped in the day.

Your progress from being shot to now was honestly better than he'd hoped. He didn't expect you to get so much usage out of your arm as you did and after all the training he'd been putting you through he was surprised how resilient you were. A couple of hours ago you'd even caught him completely off guard, getting a harsh jab in to his solar plexus that'd winded him a lot more than he'd cared to let on. Of course, he couldn't let you win the spar completely...he didn't need you to get a headstrong ego and run into the first sign of trouble like you always fucking seemed to lately.

Frank sighs, remembering when life was a bit simpler, when he'd read a book opposite this beautiful woman and then fuck her senseless in the lecture room of a public library. He cringed a little though at remembering how he'd snuck into your gym to watch you when he first started getting attached. That was definitely verging on stalker territory at the time.

Now here he was, one week out from being a married man again to the pretty girl sleeping on his chest. One week out from being married to a cop of all people. Boy did life have some fucking ironic curveballs.

Samson stirred from his position curled around your feet and Frank hurriedly bade him be still. He didn't want to wake you up just yet, not when you looked so peaceful. He leaned down, kissing your hair lightly and sighed.

One week out....what else could possibly go wrong in that time? Strange men in cafés and Red's ancient ninjas...fuck, I mean why not throw in a supervillain too at some point just for fun? Christ, you were such a magnet for trouble. It scared him to death. If he lost you now...shit...he couldn't bear the thought.

You stirred against him, hands instinctively coiling in his shirt and he felt a rush of affection and a fierce stirring of protectiveness.  
“Frank?” you mumbled out lazily.

“I'm here, darlin',” he whispered against you.

“Mmm good,” you said sleepily. “Love you.”

“Love ya too, girl,” he murmured.

Fuck, you were sweet. He'd never known someone who could go from being a stubborn ass kicking warrior to this adorable little thing that was cuddling him right now. It was like he got the best of both worlds. Well...and you also fucked like a sex starved wildcat which was pretty nice too.

God, he couldn't wait until you were officially and legally his. Mrs Castiglione. He just hoped no more trouble was lurking around the corner.

  


**

  


You must have been beat because you woke up on Frank's chest with Samson curled over your feet, keeping your toes warm.

“How long was I out?” you say, blinking hard to get the remnants of sleep out of your eyes.

“Not long,” Frank says, nuzzling his face to your cheek.

“Shit, I'm supposed to be making that cake for Matt,” you curse, rubbing your face.

“Red can wait,” Frank snorts. “Obviously you pushed too fuckin' hard this mornin' and you needed a rest.”

“Hey, I did not push too hard,” you say indignantly. “Ok...well...maybe a little but I was doing so well.”

“S'fine, darlin',” Frank chuckles. “You're improvin' a lot. You might even get a proper win in soon.”

“And what do I get if I win?” you ask, a slight smirk creeping onto your face. “I mean, I work best on a reward system here.”

“Oh you want a reward for not gettin' your ass handed to ya?” Frank laughs. “Ain't ya all demandin', huh?”

“Oh come on,” you huff. “Humour me. It's been a long couple of months here.”

“Fine fine,” Frank concedes. “You get a win in and I'll take ya out ta dinner.”

“What, like a proper dinner?” you ask wide eyed.

“Fancy restaurant n' everythin',” Frank nods.

“You're on,” you grin, holding out your hand to shake on it.

Frank just shakes his head in an endearing sort of way before gently headbutting you with his forehead, “Byrne, you're a goofball sometimes.”

“I'm _your_ goofball,” you remind him. “You're stuck with me now, Castle.”

“Ain't I just quakin' in my boots,” Frank mocks before lifting your chin up so he could kiss you. “Now fuck off to that kitchen, girl, you gotta job ta do.”

“Oh...well...yes _sir_ ,” you say, making sure to emphasise the word and you do an overdramatic salute.

“Don't make me wear you out more, darlin',” Frank says with a lustful edge. “You know that gets ta me.”

“What?” you say innocently, getting up and starting to walk out to the kitchen. “When I call you sir?”

“You're damn straight,” Frank husks. “And you know it. Stop teasin'.”

“Oh but it's so fun,” you wink. “But fine, I'll refrain. Time to get this baking show on the road.”

You disappear off into the kitchen, throwing various ingredients together. You'd been more than happy to actually follow through on your offer to Matt, after all the guy had bent over backwards to help you and you considered him a good friend. He'd text you through the flavour of the day in the office which appeared to be chocolate. Apparently Foggy was ecstatic that you were going to come over later. You couldn't help but laugh and also wonder what he was like.

Finally you had two sponges laid out on the cooling rack and you were mixing the buttercream when Frank came in and slid his arms around your waist.

“Smells good, darlin',” he rumbled against your neck.

“Thanks,” you smile happily. “I'm not far off done and then we can box it up to go.”

“Mmm,” Frank just hums, nuzzling into your hair before his finger snakes out and dips into the bowl, gathering the cream on his finger before putting it in his mouth.

“Hey!” you say, mock hitting his arm. “That's not for you!”

“Just wanted a taste,” Frank shrugs. “Shouldn't make it so fuckin' good then.”

“It's never just a taste with you, Frank,” you say wryly. “If I left you to it there'd be a clean bowl.”

Frank chuckles, “You know me well, darlin'. I got the cravin' for it now.”

“No more,” you try to say in your best bossy voice but you know it's fruitless trying to stop him. Last time you attempted to make cupcakes he bodily picked you up trying to get to the frosting and threw you over his shoulder.

“Stop me then, girl,” he says darkly in your ear before reaching out his hand again and you grab it, pulling it around your body and locking it firmly against yourself.

“No more,” you repeat and you felt him press up against you, completely flush to your body.

“Fuckin' dangerous to hold a man this close, girl,” he growls. “He could do anythin' he fuckin' wants.”

You felt that throbbing ache between your legs kick in with a vengeance. Fuck how did he always manage to do this to you? Even in innocent situations, a carefully laden sentence from this man drove you wild.

“Oh? Anything?” you tease back.

“Anythin',” Frank says, his free hand creeping up into your hair and pulling your neck back and to the side for him so he could rake his teeth across the soft skin.

“I'd better be careful then,” you say, playing along, trying to still the heavy pants forming in your chest.

“You ain't never fuckin' careful, girl,” Frank rasps. “And now look, ya got a dangerous man and you're holdin' him close. Tsk tsk tsk.” He punctuates each tut with a small nip at your shoulder.

You let go of his arm and he immediately spins you round, wrenching your clothes off your body in a frenzy and your tank top, sweatpants and underwear go flying somewhere near to the door. Once he's happy you're completely bared to him, he sets you on the kitchen counter, urgently wrenching your legs open and placing himself between them.

“So now, girl, I'm gonna do anythin', anythin' I fuckin' please,” Frank grunts as he grips your thighs hard with his coiled fingers.

He looks down at your body and the bruising fingermarks he'd left the last time he fucked you and you see that deviant smirk on his face as he admired his handiwork. To your surprise he drops down onto the floor and you catch the wicked twinkle in his eye.

“Since you're so fuckin' fond of teasin' the shit outta me with this insubordinate rookie roleplay, I'm gonna give it back to ya, girl. I'm gonna fuckin' get you on the edge over and over until you're fuckin' beggin' me, until you show me goddamn respect. You understand, girl?”

You gave a noticeable shiver and a small whimper escaped your lips as you nodded your consent.

“Good,” Frank rumbles before quickly reaching over to the bowl and dipping his fingers into it once more and gathering the cream. He lazily spreads it up and down your folds before diving upon you with his aggressive mouth.

“Fuck!” you cry out, the sudden jolt of sensation causing you to buck. You just hear Frank's dark chuckle as he laps hungrily at you.

“Shit, I shoulda tried this combination a long fuckin' time ago,” he growls before digging his tongue into you. “You taste fuckin' good, girl.”

You can't speak, all you can do is mewl out little moans as he works you over hard, relentlessly licking at every part of you he can. His aggression kicks in full force the second he hears you cry out his name and he's all teeth and tongue and fingers. You're so damn close and your legs are shaking with the effort of holding them apart and then suddenly he's gone from you, sitting back on his muscled thighs with a smirk on his mouth.

“Not yet, girl,” he grins. “We got a long fuckin' time to go before I let you get off.”

“Fuck, Frank!” you hiss, trying to regain your senses. “Stop it!”

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head. “Told you how it was gonna be. You ain't wrestin' control this time.”

You're still teetering on the precious edge and you try to bring your hand down, to stop his little game but he immediately bats it away, standing up and yanking his shirt off. He twists it into a long line before grabbing your wrists together behind your back and heavily knotting them there until you can't move them.

“That's not fair!” you protest.

“Ain't nothin' fair with me, girl, not when you gimme attitude,” he rasps before kissing you hard and you taste the sweetness of the chocolate mixed with the tanginess of yourself. “Now I think you're ready for more, huh?”

He sets down again, taking a more leisurely pace this time, obviously enjoying the frustration he was rending from your body. You buck, you writhe, you squirm all under the harsh swirl of his violent tongue as it circles your sensitive clit. Again you're almost about to orgasm when he pulls away.

“No,” you practically whine and Frank gives you the darkest laugh you've ever heard from him.

“Come on then, girl,” Frank says before viciously biting at the soft skin of your thigh, causing you to cry out. He watched the little mark turn purple before settling his mischievous eyes on yours. “You know what ta do.”

“Please Frank!” you beg. “Please!”

“Mmm,” he rumbles. “That's fuckin' hot when ya say it, girl, but you know that ain't what I wanted to hear.”

He roughly buries his tongue inside you without warning and lets it drag up your folds. You would've been seconds away from release but he seemed to know exactly when to stop and you're whimpering freely now.

“Say it, girl,” he growls.

“I'm sorry for being a tease, Sir! Please let me cum!” you whine.

“You gonna be good fuckin' girl for me?” Frank presses.

“Yes,” you moan.

“Then scream the fuckin' house down, darlin',” he chuckles before easing two fingers into you and lapping ferociously at the little bundle of nerves.

You're pretty grateful you have no neighbours because the sound that comes out of your mouth as you orgasm, followed by the long line of curse words would've left a prostitute blushing. You shake violently as you come down from your pleasurable high and you're vaguely aware that Frank is kissing your face gently.

“God, you're fuckin' beautiful like this,” he whispers. “Think you can take me darlin'? I need ya.”

You nod and you hear the sound of his jeans hitting the floor and then the feeling of his absurdly rigid cock pressing against your entrance.

“Hang onto me, girl,” he says, untying your hands and bringing your arms around his neck. “Don't let go.”

He pushes into you with extreme ease and you hear the obscene groan as he bottoms out. He's unforgiving in his animalistic thrusts as he purely uses your body to pleasure his own but you don't care. You love the feeling of his aggressive passion. It felt like he could never get enough of you.

Frank doesn't last long. You suspect he'd already worked himself up a lot by teasing you. With an extra deep rut that almost pushes you over into a second orgasm, he spills himself into you, hoarsely grunting as he does so.

“Fuck, darlin',” he pants hard against your ear. “Can't I keep you in bed all day?”

“I wish you could,” you murmur, kissing his cheek softly. “But you know I have errands to run and I have to go by the station.”

“What if I don't let ya go?” he rumbles, the lustful edge still in his voice as he gently rolled his hips, his cock still buried in you.

“Shit, you wanna go again already?” you laugh. “Jesus Christ, Frank, I'm barely recovering from this time.”

Frank laughs warmly before embracing you to him, “Naww girl, just wanna be close to ya.”

“Come with me?” you ask.

“Can't. Can't go ta Red's law firm. His friend ain't my biggest fan after the trial,” Frank grunts.

“And what about the station? You could wait in the lot and maybe we could go somewhere after?”

“Yeah,” Frank smiles against you. “Yeah that'd be nice. I just...I don't wanna be away from ya today.”

You pull away from him, pushing him playfully in the shoulder, “You're such an old fashioned gentleman.”

Frank just looks down shyly, as though he was embarrassed by your statement. You just smile broadly and reach up, giving him a soft kiss which he returns equally as gently.

“Now fuck off out of the kitchen, Frank,” you laugh. “You've distracted me enough.”

“Aww come on, darlin',” he protests but you push him backwards and out of you before dropping back down to the kitchen floor.

You walk over to the buttercream bowl, sighing at the long gouges marring it before grabbing a big spoon and ladling it full. You turn and offer it out to Frank.

“And don't say I never give you anything nice,” you wink. “Go take Samson out whilst you're at it.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Frank laughs, grabbing the spoon and popping it into his mouth before sauntering naked out of the kitchen without a care in the world.

  


**

 

  
  
Mercifully you were able to finish the rest of the cake without interruption and you boxed it up before hopping in Frank's car and driving towards Matt's law firm.

The first thing you noticed was the professional looking plaque on the outside of the building.

**Nelson & Murdock  
Attorneys At Law**

The second thing you noticed upon walking up to the actual firm was how unprofessional the set out really was but hey, New York prices right?

You knocked on the door and a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair opened the door.

“Welcome to Nelson and Murdock,” she said amiably. “What can we do for you today?”

“I'm actually dropping a cake off for-” you start but you barely have time to get the words out before a man bursts through a side door.

“Cake is here?!” he cries.

You assumed this must be Foggy with his shaggy hair and his effervescent optimism. Matt follows him closely behind, a small grin on his face.

“Hi Byrne,” Matt calls from over the girl's head. “Karen, let her in.”

Karen turns to you wide eyed, “So you're Byrne!”

“Uh...yeah?” you say a bit bewildered.

She drops her voice to a low whisper, “Frank used to talk about you a lot. It's nice to put a face to the name.”

You felt a bit out of sorts that apparently Frank had never mentioned _her_ to you. You were on the back foot with introductions here.

“Ah,” she says, realising the look on your face. “He's never told you about me, has he? Don't worry, apart from trying to keep me alive the only thing he'd ever speak about was 'his library girl'. You've got nothing to worry about.”

You flush horribly. Shit, you hoped he hadn't divulged exactly _what_ you were doing in that library.

“Come on, Karen!” Foggy calls. “I wanna taste this awesome cake!”

“God, Foggy, do you ever think with something else other than your stomach?” Karen rolls her eyes.

“You know I could dignify that with an equally flirtatious answer but I'm going to be a gentleman in the company of this fair baking maiden,” Foggy says, puffing his chest out in an adorable way.

“Just come in, Byrne,” Matt laughs. “I swear these two aren't usually as animated.”

You walk in and set the box down which is immediately set upon by Foggy, pulling the lid up.

“Oh my god!” he cries out. “Matt! Matt it's got our names on it!” He does an honest to god mini tap dance on the spot.

You lean over to Matt, “I wrote Nelson and Murdock on the top in frosting.”

“Nice touch,” Matt nods. “I can smell it from here. You made it from scratch, didn't you? I can't detect anything artificial in it.”

“Grandma's recipe,” you laugh softly.

“Can't wait to try it,” Matt smiles. “Thank you, Byrne.”

“I think you'll have to get in there quick because Foggy's already slicing it up,” you chuckle.

Sure enough, paper plates had appeared from nowhere and Foggy had carved himself a nice thick wedge. He graciously gave Karen a small sliver and she just rolled her eyes. Soon you all had cake and Matt cleared his throat.

“To Nelson and Murdock getting their tenth client,” he announced.

“Hear hear!” Karen smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, let's eat already,” Foggy grinned.

“Congrats,” you whispered, sure that Matt would hear it.

The room went deathly silent as only the sound of hungry mouths rang out around the office, followed by an intense amount of groaning coming from one corner.

“Oh. my. God,” Foggy moaned. “This is so good. You sure you wanna be a cop? You can come cater for us you know? The pay is shit but we're fun bosses.”

“He's right, the pay is shit,” Karen smirks.

“I'm sure you'd be a riot but I have New York to protect,” you laugh.

“Sure you do...Black Velvet,” Matt murmurs, with a cheeky grin.

“Oh shut up with that, will you?” you laugh. “The worst fucking code name in the history of code names.”

“Hey, I dunno,” Foggy shrugs. “Sounds kinda like a sexy secret agent.”

“If only they knew,” Matt whispers as he walks around you.

You snort until you catch Karen's face who seems to be annoyed that Matt's close to you.

Ohhhh, she liked him. Well, guess you really didn't have anything to worry about with Frank. You make a display of fiddling with your engagement ring for her and she seems to relax a little.

“Well guys, I gotta jet. I've gotta get to the station,” you say. “Enjoy the cake.”

“You are most definitely welcome here again,” Foggy says, onto his second slice already. “Matt, we're inviting her out to Josie's sometime.”

“She'll drink you under the table,” Matt laughs.

“A woman after my own heart,” Foggy bows nobly. “This I definitely want to see.”

“You're on,” you grin. “But don't blame me when you have a wicked hangover the next day.”

You give the guy a quick hug before moving onto Karen and you take the opportunity to whisper in her ear...well you whisper _directly_ into her ear so Matt has less chance of listening in, “Ask him out sometime, he seems lonely.” She gives you a wide eyed expression as if she was caught off guard by how you knew but you just give her a knowing smile.

Finally you move onto Matt who gives you a very warm hug.

“Thank you for coming over, Byrne,” Matt murmurs. “I really appreciate it. Say hi to Frank for me.”

“It's no problem and will do,” you say. “Stay safe, Matt. I expect to see you in one piece at the wedding.”

“I'll certainly try,” Matt says, flashing you that charming smile.

  


**

  


You went home and collected Frank before driving off to the station. Today was the day you had to hash out the paperwork with your sergeant for the transfer. It was gonna be quite awkward explaining that you wanted to transfer under a name you didn't have quite yet.

“Everything ok at Red's?” Frank asks.

“Yeah, Foggy is certainly a character,” you smile.

“Yeah he's a good man,” Frank nods. “I gave him fuckin' hell durin' that trial and he still kept goin'.”

“I also met Karen,” you add.

Frank seems to go a bit quiet for a time before speaking up again, “Karen...she's the only one who ever believed in me, durin' the trial. She tried to find out the truth about my family which I was eternally fuckin' grateful for but it almost got her killed. I've been tryna protect her for a while now. She don't deserve the shit that rained down upon her.” He seems to nervously glance at your face before continuing. “But darlin', please don't think cause I ain't ever mentioned her that there's somethin' going on. I consider her a friend and-”

“She's got it really bad for Matt,” you finish, letting a wry smile form on your face.

Frank looks at you for a second before shaking his head, “Aww fuck, you were just stringin' me along with that, huh? Making me sweat it out that you thought I might be cheatin'.”

“You wouldn't cheat on me, Frank,” you laugh. “You value your balls far too much for that.”

Frank practically bellows with laughter, “That I do, darlin'. That I fuckin' do. 'Sides, ain't no woman like you in the world. I ain't a fuckin' idiot.”

“You know how to sweet talk a girl,” you say sarcastically.

“What?” Frank shrugs with a lopsided grin. “You want me to say you're beautiful? Sure. Want me to say the fact you beat up a crap load of guys turns me on a lot? Sure, I'll say that too.”

“Jesus Christ, Frank,” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Hey, I'm bein' honest,” he says, leaning back into the seat. “Never thought I'd go for a strong woman when I was younger but you drive me fuckin' crazy, Byrne. One week away ain't fast enough.”

“And I didn't expect to go for a hot headed, rugged marine, but here we are,” you grin.

“I'm rugged, huh?” Frank chuckles, letting his hand stroke his jaw. “Ain't never been called that before.”

“What, you think I'd let any guy fuck me?” you snort. “Nah, only the pretty ones.”

“Fuck, darlin', you keep talkin' like that and I'll buy you whatever you want,” Frank laughs, leaning his arm out of the window and blushing slightly.

You always found it incredibly endearing when that happened, a big burly soldier with pink cheeks because you'd called him handsome. Wonders will never cease.

You pulled up into the lot and gave him a quick kiss before leaping out. The sergeant's office was next to the back entrance and you slipped inside after a curt knock.

“Hey, kid,” your sergeant smiled warmly. “Woah, you look tons better.”

“Yeah I've been doing physiotherapy,” you smile. “Got my arm completely back.”

“Shit, you must have a lucky rabbits foot hidden somewhere, Byrne,” he laughs. “You look even more muscled than you did before.”

“I have a good trainer,” you said, smirking internally.

“So what's this shit I'm hearing from Allen about you transferring out together?” Sarge said a little more seriously. “You don't like it here any more?”

“I do,” you sigh. “But with all the crap that's gone down recently I need a fresh start. I love it here, I really do. I love the people, I love the atmosphere, heck even the shitty coffee vending machine and its tendency to spit boiling water on people but it's also got bad memories for me.”

Your sergeant sighs heavily, “I understand that, kiddo. I don't like it but I understand it. You're a damn fine cop and I don't wanna lose you to those assholes at the 17th but you do what you gotta do. Fresh start right?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Also I'm getting married next week.”

He practically spits the coffee he was drinking, “What the shit?! I didn't even know you were dating anyone! You kept that quiet, Byrne!”

“You know me,” you shrug. “I don't talk about home life much.”

“Well damn, kiddo!” he laughs. “How long you been seeing this guy?”

“A while,” you say, not wanting to give anything away.

“And he was ok with your undercover shit with Frank Castle?”

“Pete's pretty understanding,” you lie.

“Ah, Pete is it?” he nods. “So what name am I gonna be reluctantly signing you off on?”

“Can you put the transfer in under Castiglione?” you ask.

“Sure thing, Byrne,” he smiles. “I hope you'll be happy and just know I'll forever hate that you left and took Jimmy with you.”

“I wouldn't expect anything less,” you wryly grin. “Thank you, I really appreciate all you've done for me.”

He stands up and walks around the desk, “Come here, kiddo. Gimme a hug.”

He gives you a bone jarring hug, patting you heftily on the back and you're briefly reminded why he got the nickname 'Brick Shithouse' when he was a regular beat cop. You have to force the air back into your lungs as he pulls away.

“Be safe, Byrne and if those shitheads give you trouble over there, I'll keep your spot warm,” he smiles.

“Good luck corralling the children,” you say, pointing your thumb to the general office outside. “And again, thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, just fuck off before I start bawling,” he says with a warm smile.

You start to walk around the corner and down the hallway that led out to the back parking lot when you see a flash of purple and your entire body freezes.

“So...” a British voice lilts over. “Trying to cut and run were we?”

“How the hell did you get in here?” you hiss, turning around to see Kilgrave leaning against a storage room door. He gives you a reproachful look, as if you were a stupid child and it instantly clicks. Oh right, mind control. “Why are you following me?”

“Because you're interesting,” he says simply. “Because this unremarkable policewoman can resist me to some degree and I didn't forget that kiss darling. You're quite a spitfire, aren't you?”

“Leave me alone,” you spit, starting to walk to the door. “I'm not getting mixed up in your shit.”

“Oh I think you are,” Kilgrave calls after you. “Stop walking, Byrne.”

You feel your movements become extremely laboured as you try to fight the command. Kilgrave catches up to you and seems to take great mirth in your furious expression.

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly. You're beyond giving a shit about this right now. You needed to get out, get in the car and drive Frank as far away as you possibly fucking could.

“Leverage,” Kilgrave replies with an arched eyebrow. “Jessica seems to have taken a liking to you and if I'm being entirely honest, so have I. So we're going to have a little walk to my boat and perhaps your presence will make her see I'm genuine about her and if not...well, I'm sure you'll be equally as entertaining. Maybe I'll bring you both along.”

You shudder slightly at his blatant leer, “You're fucking sick.”

“I'm perfectly sane,” Kilgrave retorts. “I'm just a man in love. Love does funny things to people. Now...” He grabs your hand and you feel your resolve being melted by his overpowering will as he speaks again, “You're going to come with me to the docks, Byrne.”

Sure, why not. The docks were nice this time of year and Kilgrave would be a good walking companion.

“Let's go, officer,” Kilgrave smirks, opening the door.

  


**  
  


It made Frank fucking nervous to be so blatantly in the parking lot of a police station but he just made sure he had his new drivers licence ready in case anyone questioned him. He pulled down his baseball cap, making it look like he was asleep before warily scanning the door, waiting for you to come out.

He waited for what felt like an age, running through all the things he'd like to do when you got back. Maybe he'd take you and Samson out to the park or maybe he'd catch a movie with you. I mean shit, you'd only properly been on one technical date. He smiled at the thought of being a stereotypical guy and shrugging one arm around you in a theatre. Fuck it, he was taking you to a movie, he didn't give a shit which one.

The door opened from the station and he eagerly looked up, only to see a tall man in a purple suit leading you by the arm and fuck did you look unhappy about it. You didn't even glance to the car as you were pulled along and out onto the main street.

Frank immediately got out of the car, racing after you and saw the guy flagging down a taxi. What the fuck was going on?! You were just standing there. He would've expected you to easily take this guy down by now.

He catches up and grabs for you, yanking you out of the guy's grip. The man looks surprised.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doin' with my girl?” Frank asked angrily.

“Ohhhh,” the guy smiled in a way that made every muscle in Frank's body coil. “So you must be Frank.”

Oh shit. That was not good. Nobody was supposed to know that. He looked down at you but you actually seemed to be trying to get back to this man's side.

“I really didn't peg Officer Byrne here for fancying a meathead soldier,” the guy tuts. “Oh no no no, especially not one with such a colourful history as yourself Mr Castle.”

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done to her?” Frank says, trying to keep his voice restrained so he didn't draw attention to himself.

“The name's Kilgrave,” the guy nodded courteously. “I'm guessing she didn't tell you about our little encounter in the café?”

Café guy. You said you'd handled it. Upon looking closer, Frank could see the fading grey bruises around this guy's eyes. This was definitely him.

“That doesn't answer my fuckin' question,” Frank hissed. “What the hell have you done to my girl?”

“I simply told her I wanted to go to the docks and she followed me out,” Kilgrave shrugged.

“You were fuckin' leadin' her out,” Frank corrects. “And she's fightin' me to go back to ya so tell me what you did. Did you fuckin' drug her?”

“Something like that,” Kilgrave says with a wicked smile. “Touch your nose, Frank.”

Immediately one finger flew up. What the fuck?

“Let go of Byrne and jump up and down twice,” Kilgrave pressed.

Frank's hands let go of you and he did exactly as Kilgrave asked.

“Do you get it now, Mr Castle?” Kilgrave asked with a silky purr. “I can make anybody do anything and your darling fiancé is coming with me right now.”

“I ain't leavin' her side,” Frank growls, his fingers curled into tight fists. “I don't give two fuckin' shits what ya can do, I ain't leavin' her.”

“How sweet,” Kilgrave says sardonically. “But you may be useful if Jessica doesn't respond well. You have a car I take it?”

“Yes,” Frank grunts, absolutely boiling with anger.

“Well if you want to keep Byrne safe you'll drive me to the docks,” Kilgrave smirks, taking a lock of your hair and twirling it between his fingers.

“Stop touchin' her,” Frank hisses.

Kilgrave says nothing but chuckles mirthfully, ushering Frank to go ahead. Everybody climbs into the car with Kilgrave pulling you into the backseat, one arm looped around your shoulders.

Frank was livid. He should be the one doing that in a cute little theatre somewhere, not this British asshole. He starts driving the car and his mind is whirling through all the possible ways he can get you out of this. Fuck, why didn't you just tell him there was a guy with mind control powers? Why had you kept that important detail to yourself? You stupid fucking idiot! How was he supposed to keep you safe if you kept secrets?

“She's rather lovely, isn't she?” Kilgrave said almost sweetly. “All fire and passion.”

“You fuckin' shut up,” Frank hisses. “Or I flip this car over.”

“Mr Castle you will not flip this car over or get in a deliberate crash,” Kilgrave ordered.

“Fuck you,” Frank spits.

“And you're really what this woman wants?” Kilgrave scoffs. “An overgrown brute flinging curse words into every sentence?”

“Yeah, I fuckin' am,” Frank says aggressively. “She sure as shit ain't gonna want you naturally.”

“Oh we'll see,” Kilgrave said darkly, sitting back into the seat. “Byrne, rest your head on my shoulder.”

Frank watched you in the rear view mirror do exactly that.

“Good girl,” Kilgrave cooed.

Oh Frank was gonna tear this arrogant little shitbag limb from limb.

He reached the Hudson Ferry docks and watched as Kilgrave whispered words into your ear. He ducked his hand under the driver's seat, retrieving his secreted Glock. He waited until Kilgrave had his back turned and quickly raised it ready to take him out.

“Stop, Frank!” Kilgrave ordered and Frank froze in his tracks.

Kilgrave whirled around with elegant grace before taking in the gun that had been trained on his head mere moments ago, “Did you think it would be that easy? Did you truly?”

“I'm gonna fuckin' kill you,” Frank rasps the words out.

“Not if I kill you first, Mr Castle,” Kilgrave says with a raised eyebrow. “Now...you're going to join me and Byrne by the ramp to the yacht and you're not going to try and shoot me again.”

Frank found himself walking alongside you as you crossed the dockyard through a myriad of people who were just milling around.

_He said not to shoot, he didn't say not to break his fucking neck._

He'd just have to wait for the opportune moment.

“Stand there, both of you,” Kilgrave said with a snap of his fingers, almost dismissive in his tone. “I've got to set the stage properly.”

He walks off to the hoard of people in front of you both and Frank chances a look at you. You seemed petrified.

“Darlin'?” he asks quietly.

“I'm sorry, Frank,” you whispered in a voice that broke his goddamn heart. “I should have told you. I just didn't want you to get killed.”

“S'fine, Byrne,” Frank says soothingly. “I ain't mad. I just wanna get you away from this guy.”

“Don't piss him off,” you pleaded. “Please. He can make you shoot yourself and I...I couldn't..”

He saw you were fighting tears back and he wanted so desperately to hold you but his feet wouldn't move from the spot they were rooted to.

Kilgrave was walking back now, a cocky swagger in his step as he rubbed his hands together gleefully, “The show's going to start soon. Are we excited?”

Frank kept silent as did you.

“Oh come on,” Kilgrave scoffs. “The two most aggressively talkative people I have here and you don't want to say anything?”

Silence.

Frank could see Kilgrave was getting annoyed that he wasn't riling either of you up. Guess this guy just got off on being in control.

“Or maybe you prefer action?” Kilgrave continues in that silky tone. “I know Byrne prefers getting physical, don't you?”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Frank asks, not able to keep his mouth shut any longer. He'd hit a nerve and Kilgrave knew that oh too well.

“She's a very good kisser, isn't she?” Kilgrave smirks horribly, rocking on the balls of his feet.

Frank almost lost it then and there, “You fuckin' touched my girl! You piece o' shit! How FUCKIN' dare you!”

Kilgrave laughs devilishly, “Such passion...and she has a wicked little tongue too.”

“There ain't gonna be any piece of ya left when I'm fuckin' through with you!” Frank bellows, trying to grab for Kilgrave but the man just deftly steps out of his reach and walks towards you, placing a hand over yours.

“Byrne, follow me,” he says in a low voice.

Kilgrave leads you out, beyond Frank's grasp and spins you about so Frank can see your face. Fuck, you look like you're one second away from having a breakdown. Your body is rigid, eyes wide and pleading.

“Now if you will keep threatening me, Mr Castle, I'm going to show you exactly whose girl she truly is,” Kilgrave warns.

“Don't you fuckin' dare,” Frank hisses. “Don't you dare!”

“Frank, you're not going to move at all. You're going to watch me and Byrne and you're not going to close your eyes,” Kilgrave smirks before circling you and pulling your chin up. “Kiss me, Byrne. Kiss me like you'd kiss Frank, like you were about to fuck him.”

Pure molten anger surged through every muscle of Frank's body as he was forced to watch you kiss Kilgrave, your movements wanton and full of passionate aggression. The only way he could keep his brain from snapping into rageful insanity was to imagine it was him you were kissing instead and he watched your face, knowing that the expression of pleasure and lust was for him alone. You were beautiful like this and he'd never seen it from this angle before.

“Enough,” Kilgrave commanded and you ceased your kisses, breathing heavily. Frank immediately saw the disgust creep onto your face.

_Atta girl._

“You'll never be Frank,” you hissed. “You're rotten from the inside, Kilgrave.”

Frank's heart swelled with pride. You were fighting back and you weren't letting this destroy you.

“You really know how to wound a guy, officer,” Kilgrave mocks. “I could have asked you to do more.”

“So you want fucking brownie points now for not raping a girl?” you cried out.

“Don't use that word!” Kilgrave hisses.

“But ya are,” Frank chips in. “You're a fuckin' rapist piece o' shit!”

“Enough!” Kilgrave shouts, losing his temper. “Frank, point your gun at Byrne. Byrne, don't move.”

No, no, no!

Frank was screaming internally as his hand rose up with the Glock, training it on you. Your face was almost deathly pale as you stared down the barrel of the gun.

“One more foul comment from either of you and you know what will happen,” Kilgrave snarls. “You've been amusing Byrne but I won't be called a rapist. Now I have to pick up Miss Jones so why don't you think about your behaviour whilst I'm gone?”

With that he whirls away, stamping down the dockyard.

  


**  
  


You'd never been so scared in your life. Russo, Sam Walker...they were small fries compared to this. The taste of Kilgrave still lingered in your mouth and you wanted to be violently sick.

You looked up at Frank, his arm shaking as he held the gun out. He looked like he was about to tip into a PTSD episode.

“Frank?” you called out.

“Shit, darlin',” he rasped out. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

“It's ok,” you cut him off. “Just know...just know that if he forces you to..shoot me, it's not your fault.”

“Don't fuckin' say things like that!” Frank yells, his voice slightly cracking. “It ain't gonna happen!”

You sigh. You'd kind of accepted by now that you might not make it home alive. Kilgrave was just far too strong. In fact, he seemed even stronger than the last time you'd met.

“But if it does,” you push. “It's not on you and I forgive you.”

There's tears starting to brew in Frank's eyes and they treacherously spill down his face. You've never seen him like this before. You've never seen him cry before. Here was your hot headed marine breaking down and it absolutely destroyed your soul to see it happen.

“Fuck!” Frank cries. “This ain't fuckin' fair! It's one fuckin' week, just one fuckin' week out! I ain't losin' you! I can't lose someone again!”

He was in full meltdown mode now.

“Frank, please,” you beg him. “Please stop, it's ok.”

“It ain't fuckin' ok!” Frank bellows. “I got a fuckin' gun pointed at the woman I love and a psychopathic mind controller with a key to the fuckin' trigger! I was supposed ta take ya to the fuckin' movies! This wasn't supposed to happen!”

“Please..” you almost whisper, tears starting to track down your face as well.

“Byrne, I can't,” Frank says in a painfully strained voice. “I can't fuckin' lose you. You're my fuckin' world darlin'. I wanted you to be my wife, I wanted us to have a child together someday. I wanted a family with you.”

“Frank, you're breaking my heart here,” you say, choking out the words. “Please just stop.”

“I'm not gonna fuckin' stop,” Frank spits. “I ain't never gonna fuckin' stop. If he's gonna make me shoot you, I want you to know. I want you to know all of it.”

“I love you, Frank,” you say, pouring all your emotions into those words.

“I love you too, darlin',” Frank says, trying to steady his voice. “So fuckin' much that it hurts.”

“Don't you dare forget me,” you say, a sad smile on your face.

“Couldn't if I tried to, girl,” Frank says with a sorrowful expression.

A huge commotion breaks you both out of the moment and the sound of gunfire rattles in the terminal building. Kilgrave comes darting past the both of you, almost skipping.

“She's here!” he says excitedly before his face morphs into a more domineering expression as he spots something behind you. “If you come any closer there'll be consequences Jessica.”

Jessica! Maybe she could help you out of this mess if you both stayed alive long enough.

“Everybody bar Frank and Byrne, start fighting,” Kilgrave orders and you hear a massive brawl erupt over your shoulder. You assumed these were the people who were milling about on the dockyard earlier.

It sounds horrendous. There's sickening punches, the sound of blood splattering on the ground and the groans and cries of the people as they express their pain.

“Stop!” Kilgrave bellows and there's deathly silence. “Oh come on, Jones, stop faking it.”

“Enough, Kevin,” Jessica says from two feet behind you. “Stop it, stop making them hurt each other.”

“Oh because you're so sanctimonious all of a sudden,” Kilgrave scoffs. “Little Jessica wants to save people. Well look at this situation here.”

Kilgrave points to you and Frank.

“Make him put the gun down,” Jessica says in an urgent voice. “Please.”

“Frank, fire six inches to the left of Byrne,” Kilgrave hisses.

Bang!

The shot leaves your heart hammering and you're shaking violently now. Frank looks physically ill.

“Please stop it!” Jessica yells, still not moving past you.

Come on, Jessica, please say you have a better plan than that, you think, or is it all truly hopeless?

“Don't make me do that again,” Frank begs. “Don't make me kill her.”

“Well that all depends on the lady of the hour,” Kilgrave smirks. “Still faking it? Please...Byrne, come over here.”

Your legs walked with a stride that belied the weakness you felt in them.

“Now this good officer you may remember from the café. I have her fiancée over there, ready to fire when I want to...or perhaps I should take her on my yacht in lieu of you. I haven't quite decided yet. Decide for me, Jones.”

“I'd rather die than let him take me,” you said resolutely, facing Jessica and she gives you a sad little smile.

“Tick tock, tick tock,” Kilgrave says mockingly. “Come on, Jones. Which is it? Does a bullet go through her head or do I get to ravish her night after night? Tell you what, whilst you're deciding...Frank, get a bullet ready.”

There's a click of the round chambering and you swallow hard.

“And Byrne, take your outer clothes off,” Kilgrave continues.

Oh fuck. Your head swam as it mangled the memory of Russo demanding the same with Kilgrave. You felt like you were gonna pass out. Your fingers dutifully obeyed, pulling your t-shirt over your head and pushing your jeans to the ground.

“My my my,” Kilgrave muses, walking around you. “Somebody works out, don't they? No wonder you did a lot of damage with those punches. I wonder just how much stamina you have, Byrne.”

“Get away from her!” Jessica yells, still rooted to the spot.

Kilgrave's hands are on you, roving over your torso and hungrily pawing at your breasts. You can't stifle your heavy sobs at this point. It's too much.

“Get the fuck off of her!” Frank howls.

Kilgrave looks up before something settles in his face, “Oh my god. You can't actually move can you?”

He pushes past you, his pursuit of you long forgotten and he walks up to Jessica, “Smile for me.”

Jessica breaks out into a wide smile and you know the game is over. He's won.

“Oh Jessica,” Kilgrave breathes, his eyes wide with happiness. “I never thought this would happen. I'd hoped for it. I'd dreamt about it and now you're actually mine again. Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” Jessica says with adoration.

Kilgrave leans close to her, gazing down with manic love until Jessica's hands reach up quickly and snap his neck with a sickening crack. There's a hefty thump as his body hits the floor.

“Fucking asshole,” Jessica sneers before looking back up at you. “Sorry you had to go through that again.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I was beginning to think I wouldn't survive the day.”

“No problem,” she says in that monotone voice. “I'd recommend booze. It helps boot down the bad memories.”

You chance an experimental move of your limbs and find you have full control again. It doesn't take Frank long before he figures it out himself and he tosses the gun to the floor before running over to you and crushing you against him tightly.

“I got ya, girl,” he says.

“Frank, right?” Jessica asks.

“Yeah,” Frank nods, not letting go of you.

“Castle? I read about you in the papers. Looked Byrne up after bumping into her. Quite the odd love story, The Punisher and a rogue cop.”

You can't help but laugh, “What are you? Some kind of fucking detective?”

“Private investigator,” she retorts.

“With super strength,” you add. “Because nobody should have been able to snap a guy's neck like that.”

“Yeah yeah,” she says dismissively. “Not a big deal. Now fuck off you two, the cops will be here soon and I don't think you wanna explain this to your job, Byrne.”

“No I don't,” you agree. “You gonna be ok?”

Jessica looks down at Kilgrave's body, “I think I'm gonna start to be.”

You break away from Frank who lets go of you reluctantly and give Jessica a hug. She seems startled at first but gradually returns the embrace.

“Keep yourself safe,” you whisper to her. “And if you need a friendly cop, I'll be in the 17th.”

“Er...thanks,” she says, a little unsure of herself. “I'll keep that in mind. Now go.”

Her face drops back to its usual surly expression and she ushers you away.

You redress and start walking with Frank who picks his gun up and the shell casing too and both make a beeline for the car, slamming yourselves into it.

The whole car journey home is quiet. Neither of you says anything. There's too much tension in the air.

Frank pulls into the driveway and you both go inside, Samson desperately trying to greet you as you walk in but Frank just pulls you into the bedroom and shuts the door. He sighs heavily, just standing there. You take one look at his broken expression and know it's another psychological scar he's going to have to bear, just like you are.

“I...” he starts but he can't seem to find the words. “Byrne...please...just..hold me.”

You throw yourself against him, arms looping around his neck and squeeze him tightly. One of his powerful arms circles your waist whilst the other delicately slides into your hair, holding your head close to his chest. He presses himself to you in an urgent need, a need to feel every part of you touching him.

“Frank,” you whisper.

“Shhh,” he says quietly, rocking on the spot with you.

“Bed,” you say, a bit firmer.

You're sure Frank is thinking the wrong thing because he tenses heavily.

“Not for that,” you say soothingly. “I just wanna lie down with you.”

You let him go and he begrudgingly does the same before you strip off your clothing, redressing in your pyjamas that are, in reality, Frank's old workout clothes. The smell is comforting.

There's the smallest smile that tugs at the corner of Frank's lips when he sees what you're wearing and he strips himself off down to his boxers and climbs into the bed. You quickly follow.

There you both are, lying on your sides facing each other, hands and legs crooked over each other's bodies and foreheads resting against one another.

“I thought you were gonna die today,” Frank whispers.

“I thought I was too,” you admit. “I'm sorry, Frank.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I always find danger,” you murmur back. “I'd understand if you didn't want me after all the trouble I've caused you. Maybe you should have never come back for me, left me as 'library girl' and nothing more.'

Frank fiercely grips your chin and forces you to look into his eyes which are ablaze with anger, “Don't you ever fuckin' say that to me again. I don't care what shady shit ya keep fallin' into, I don't care how many enemies ya seem to make, I will _always_ be there to protect you and I will _always_ want you, Byrne.”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying and he swipes his huge thumb over your mouth, tugging your lip out from your teeth's grasp. Before you can say another word, he's kissing you, kissing you with a violent need to show you how much he loves you.

“I will always love ya, darlin'” he murmurs as he breaks away. “Don't you ever tell me to stop.”

“I won't, Frank,” you say, returning his kiss wholeheartedly, losing yourself in the sensation of him. “I won't, I promise.”

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely promise wedding bells are coming next chapter!


	17. Silence in the Aisles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're cordially invited to the wedding of Peter Castiglione and Officer Byrne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm legitimately sad because this is a good natural stopping point for this story until Season 2 of the Punisher comes out. I want to follow the official storyline rather than branching off to the more traditional Punisher villains like The Russian and Barracuda.
> 
> So...sorry this is the final chapter for now.
> 
> Warnings: Angst (Because what has this story been without the heavy angst?), PTSD, rough smut and absolute tooth rotting, you will need dentures, fluff.
> 
> If you wanna send me any messages, private comments or prompts in the downtime then my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com
> 
> Happy reading and get your tissues ready!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (And one final time for posterity: I suck at proofreading)

You and Frank didn't leave the house for the next few days except to walk Samson, in fact you barely left each other's side for more than a few minutes at a time. When you went into the kitchen, Frank followed. When you went into the home gym, Frank followed. Even when you took a shower, Frank followed, content to sit on the toilet with the seat down and chat to you whilst you washed.

“Byrne, this is drivin' me fuckin' crazy,” Frank sighed as he looked through the glass in the shower cubicle at you. “I feel like I'm just waitin', you know? Like, waitin' for somethin' else ta happen.”

“It's two days away, Frank,” you say, lathering up your hair. “Now I know I'm a shit magnet for trouble but I don't think anything else is coming our way. Kilgrave's dead and Russo's still under hospital watch. The only thing that could mess it up is Matt's rivalry with The Hand but they've apparently been quiet.”

“I don't like it,” Frank growls.

“You're just being paranoid,” you laugh, rinsing the suds out.

“Better ta be fuckin' paranoid than get blindsided,” Frank points out.

He stands up, grabbing a towel and waits for you to open the cubicle door before wrapping you in it and picking you up. He takes you into the living room and sets you in front of the fire he's built into the chimney. You don't protest. You like feeling the crackling warmth on your skin.

“Can I?” he asks, grabbing a brush and holding it up.

“Sure,” you nod. One thing Frank had started doing lately was brushing your hair for you whenever you'd showered. It was a little odd at first but it seemed to relax him a lot for some reason. He always asked first though which you thought was adorably sweet.

Frank sets himself down behind you and gently teases the knots out of the strands. You just melt into the feeling of the sizzling heat and the stroke of the brush.

“Feel good, darlin'?” he asks.

“You know it does,” you laugh.

“I like takin' care a' ya,” he murmurs.

“Just a big ol' romantic aren't you?” you smile.

You can't see him but you know he's blushing from the tone of his voice, “Shut up, girl.”

“You're cute,” you giggle.

“Swear ta god, girl, you keep makin' fun and I'm gonna...” he starts but trails off.

Normally there'd be some heavily sexualised comment in there but Frank's been being very respectful of you since the incident at the docks. You'd been having horrendous nightmares and any time Frank would try to touch you, you'd find yourself recoiling away. He'd been hurt to begin with but he knew you needed space and time to work through what had happened. Russo you'd handled and you'd processed that by now but Kilgrave had dug up those old wounds and made them deeper. You were honestly surprised you weren't a gibbering wreck.

You supposed it helped having someone as supportive as Frank. He was no stranger to trauma himself and he'd displayed a level of understanding that was beyond any man you'd ever dated before. If it were possible to say, you fell in love with him even more.

Over the past couple of days you'd been rationalising in your head and you made a conscious effort to separate Frank's touch from Russo and Kilgrave's. You started off by letting him hug you, then he started brushing your hair, then you found it was ok for him to hold you properly. You could physically see his confidence returning and you imagined how fucking awful this was for him. Sure you were traumatised but so was he and all he seemed to want to do was lose himself in you and you couldn't even give him that physical connection yet. It must be killing him inside.

You made the decision right then and there.

“You're gonna what?” you say, pushing the teasing tone into your voice.

Frank says nothing and finishes the last tangled section of hair before he sets the brush down.

“What are you gonna do, Castle?” you push.

“Byrne, don't do that,” he sighs. “Ya ain't ready and I get it. Don't rush yourself darlin', not for me.”

You turn around and he seems resolute in what he's saying but also incredibly sad too. You didn't want him to feel this way. You sat up and hugged him close to you. He was extremely awkward in where he put his hands. You pulled back slightly and looked into his melancholic eyes. You could tell there was a lot of rejected emotion there.

Gently, you pressed your lips to his and he stayed completely still, unsure of what to do. This was the second time you'd kissed since the docks. You deepened it slightly, letting him know it was ok and ever so slowly he started responding. It was like the two of you were kissing for the first time again.

Frank breaks away and rests his forehead to yours, “Fuck darlin', I've missed ya. I've missed ya so much.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “I'm sorry.”

“Ya don't need to be sorry, Byrne,” he says soothingly. “I told ya, I get it. I don't blame ya. I just....I missed bein' close ta ya. I missed kissin' ya.”

“So kiss me, Frank,” you murmur, stroking his bearded cheek gently.

“If it gets too overwhelmin', you'll tell me right?” he asks in a small voice. “I don't wanna upset ya.”

“Just do it you idiot,” you laugh softly. “I'm losing my nerve here.”

Frank doesn't waste another second, holding you close and kissing you with an urgency that you felt yourself. This was a man who'd always take care of you, who loved you deeply and you could feel all of that through his kiss. You'd also missed his taste, a faint lingering of coffee and sweets.

You start pulling your hand down his chest to his lap but he instantly breaks away.

“No, Byrne,” he says firmly. “You ain't pushin' yourself like this. I don't care if I gotta wait 'til after the weddin' or even after the fuckin' honeymoon, I'm not lettin' ya go beyond your limits.”

“Do I get any say in this whatsoever?” you smile.

“Nuh uh, darlin',” Frank says with a serious expression. “You're too precious to me. I don't want ya to be upset or set yourself back.”

“You know what's gonna upset me?” you ask.

“What?” Frank says warily.

“If you don't kiss me some more,” you laugh. “I was enjoying it.”

“Well that I can do,” Frank chuckles. “But keep ya hands off.”

“That's gonna be difficult,” you smirk.

“Darlin', you got no fuckin' idea,” Frank growls.

You spend the rest of the morning making out in front of the fire.

 

**

 

A hammering at the door woke you up with a start. Shit, what time was it? You blearily looked at the empty space next to you in the bed and your heart went into overdrive.

Fuck! You were getting married today!

You hurriedly run out into the living room and open the door to see Matt standing there with an amused expression.

“You sleep like you're dead, do you know that?” he says wryly.

“Fuck, I'm sorry!” you babble. “Overslept!”

“You're fine,” Matt laughs. “Actually I came over early so you're still on track for time.”

“Oh Christ,” you sigh, putting your hand over your heart. “You're a lifesaver.”

“That's a nicer word than vigilante,” Matt smiles.

“Come in,” you say, eager to not seem like a shitty host. “You want a drink?”

“Coffee would be good,” he nods. “I know Frank likes the expensive stuff.”

You quickly make him a fresh pot and set it down on the table in front of him. You guided his hands to the table to show him the distance and then to the mug itself.

“You're good at this, Byrne,” he smiles warmly.

“Good at what?” you ask.

“Dealing with the blind,” he continues. “Not many people are that thoughtful when it comes to showing me the space around me and you seem to do it on instinct.”

“Guess I'm just used to you,” you laugh. “Plus you're over here often enough these days. It's about time you learned how the house is.”

“Are you expecting me to visit a lot?” he laughs.

“Well, if you ever get in a bad spot doing your Daredevil work and can't use your own apartment, you're welcome to crash here,” you offer.

Matt looks genuinely touched, “Thank you. That's very kind. I'm still gonna ask this, are you one hundred percent sure you want to marry Frank?”

“Don't make me throw a cushion at you,” you laugh. “I don't care if you're blind or not, I will do it.”

“I'd expect nothing less,” Matt grins. “Now get dressed, the car's gonna pick us up in a little bit.”

This was a surreal experience. You never once imagined a year ago that you'd be where you are now, marrying the infamous Punisher. Now you had a house and a dog together, which Foggy was apparently all too happy to take in for a week and said something about it being a lifelong dream since university. Also your closest friends were a supercop and a vigilante crime fighter. Fuck...a year ago all you wanted was a promotion and maybe to install a reading nook in your apartment.

You put your wedding dress on and it all seemed to make it incredibly real for you. You were marrying Frank, you were marrying Frank today. You had absolutely no fucking idea what awaited you because all of those decisions he'd made on his own. You were nervous but you were excited.

You put on proper make up, not the kind you usually did for daily life but an actual effort. You kept your hair loose because you knew Frank loved it that way and you just curled it at the bottom like you'd seen your grandma do in a picture from sixty years ago.

This was it.

You stepped out into the living room and your heart was hammering wildly. Matt cocked his head slightly and smiled.

“No need to be nervous,” he said calmly. “I'm right here with you.”

“Thanks,” you nod. “Wow, guess this is happening, huh? I'm gonna have a surname that no one will ever use in an hour.”

Matt laughs warmly and sips his coffee, “Castiglione is way too much of a mouthful. I mean I could call you Black Velvet but I think you might actually punch me.”

“You're damn straight, Murdock,” you smile. “Stop bringing that up.”

“Never,” he grins devilishly. “It's far too good to not torment you with.”

“I have such great friends,” you sigh.

You hear the sound of a car pulling up outside.

“Show time, I guess,” you say and Matt stands up.

You escort him outside and you see an old fashioned vintage car with runners on the side and a traditional wedding bow on the front. You could've cried right then but you kept yourself in check. Jesus, you didn't need Matt to sense you being such a soppy idiot.

You climbed into the car after making sure Matt was firmly in and you set off. You didn't have a clue where you were going. Street after street passed and you started to recognise you were back near your old apartment. Just where was this car taking you?

You soon had your answer as the car pulled up outside a place you never expected to visit again.

The Library.

“Oh my god,” you murmur.

“What is it?” Matt asks, slightly concerned.

“It's the library,” you say.

“Yeah...why exactly did Frank insist on the wedding being here?” Matt says curiously.

“Oh, it's where we met,” you laugh. “We used to read books opposite each other when I worked night shifts.”

“That's...surprisingly sweet for Frank,” Matt smiles. “I did wonder how you two got started.”

“Yeah it was sweet,” you say, trailing off before you accidentally reveal too much about your early days in that place, although your mind wanders to those particular memories.

Matt suddenly looks at you with a very bemused expression and you're sure he must have caught something, “Oh tell me you didn't.”

“Didn't what, Matt?” you reply wryly.

“Oh you did,” he groans. “You're gonna have to tell me where is safe to sit.”

“Just don't go in the lecture room at the top,” you giggle, practically creasing over.

“Duly noted,” he sighs. “Come on then, Miss Byrne, let's get you married.”

He walks you into the library reception and you sneak a glance down into the main hall. Your heart practically stops as you take it all in.

All the aisles are covered in garlands and you can see the area at the bottom which was the teaching section is festooned with seats and a large archway that's decorated with winding flowers. To say you're overwhelmed at this point would be an understatement. It was perfect. You couldn't believe the lengths Frank had gone to.

“Are you ok?” Matt asks gently.

“Trying not to break down like a softie,” you reply, trying to force some strength into your voice.

“I can walk down with you if you want,” he offers. “I know you don't have any folks to do that for you.”

“I'd like that,” you smile.

Matt offers you the crook of his arm after he's announced to someone you presume to be a steward that you're here. You take it, steadying yourself.

“The bride,” somebody announces and you see a bunch of people stand up.

Holy shit, that was more than you thought! You half expected to see only a couple of people at most.

You spot Frank's back and see he is resolutely refusing to turn around. _What a traditionalist_ , you think. Matt guides you down in between the aisles of books and you stand just a foot behind Frank, incredibly nervous.

“I think this one is yours,” Matt laughs, letting go of your arm and you see Karen out of the corner of your eye, lead him to a seat and squeeze his hand gently.

_Good on you, Karen._

Frank turns round and finally sees you. His eyes go wide and his face splits into the widest smile you've seen on him. It reaches all the way up into his eyes before it settles into that familiar lopsided grin. You also note he's a bit teary eyed, but then again, you're about two seconds away from bawling like an idiot.

Frank takes your hand and squeezes it before whispering, “You're so fuckin' beautiful, darlin'.”

You cast your eyes over his tailored suit that seems to fit him extremely well and enhances his broad chest and muscled legs. Damn this man could suit anything he wore.

“And you're very handsome in that,” you smile to which he blushes awkwardly.

You're insanely surprised Frank hasn't opted for a Catholic style wedding given his upbringing but you're not complaining. You were never one for singing hymns.

You make your vows and go through the process until you're startled by the officiate who says, “And now Pete, I believe, has some words of his own he wants to say.”

“Darlin',” Frank begins, fiddling with your fingers as he looks shyly down at the floor. “I never thought I'd find love again and I went ta this library to get away from the world. I didn't expect ta find a beautiful girl sittin' right next to me. I certainly didn't expect her to gimme a book recommendation and I certainly didn't expect her to throw out a bunch a' rowdy kids who were disturbin' me.”

That earns a laugh from your guests and Frank seems to gain a bit of confidence.

“Think I kinda fell for ya right there if I'm honest,” Frank chuckles. “And then ya just kinda took over my life and now I can't imagine it without ya. I'm just so happy we made it ta today. I love ya, girl.”

God, the waterworks were starting and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You hurriedly wiped it away, laughing slightly and smiled broadly at Frank who was just beaming at you.

“Honoured guests if you'd please rise?” the officiate says and you hear the sound of people standing up. “Please join me in receiving Mr and Mrs Castiglione. You may kiss your bride.”

Frank and you practically throw yourselves on one another, all of the tensions of the past few months forgotten as you melt into each other's kiss. You register cheering coming from all around you and Jimmy shouting “For god's sake, put her down so we can drink!”

You break away, laughing uncontrollably as Jen thumps Jimmy aggressively in the arm and gives him a withering look. Frank draws you back into his arms and kisses the top of your head.

“We made it, darlin',” Frank grins.

“Sure did, _husband_ ,” you say, trying the word out.

“That word makes me ridiculously happy,” Frank smiles broadly. “Come on, Mrs Castiglione, I wanna show ya off and make everyone jealous.”

“Lead the way,” you smile.

You both partied hard into the night in the big function room in the left wing of the library. You lost your garter somewhere where you don't quite remember and later saw Curtis twirling it around on his finger, drunk off of his face. Frank also managed to lose his tie somewhere but you didn't mind, you loved the way his shirt was slightly hanging open.

“Hey,” he calls from across the dancefloor. “Get over here, wife.”

“Make me,” you say, drunkenly poking your tongue out.

Frank quickly approached you, picking you up and putting you over his shoulder before depositing you in front of Matt, Karen, Micro and Sarah.

“That's no way to handle a lady,” you pout.

“From what I've heard Frank's handled you much worse,” Matt says slyly and you're sure your mouth fell open.

Well holy shit, he was extremely sassy when he was tipsy!

“Matt, Jesus!” Karen giggles.

“Hey, did you know what they did in the lecture room?” Matt chuckles.

Frank turns to you, completely dumbstruck, “You told Red?!”

“He guessed,” you shrug. “You know he's good at that sort of thing.”

“Wow,” Karen laughs. “'Library girl' takes on a whole different meaning now.”

“Oh god,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“I'm sure you said that to Frank too,” Matt roars with laughter.

“Fuck, Red,” Frank snorts. “Just 'cause you overheard us one time.”

“Oh I'd forgotten!” Matt says a little louder than was necessary. “You know they fucked in my bathroom?”

“We did not fuck in your bathroom!” you exclaim and you can feel a bunch of eyes turning to you.

“Close enough,” Matt laughs.

“At least you didn't hear their angry storage room fight sex,” Micro rolls his eyes.

“Really, David?” you huff. “You're the one who actively listened in.”

Sarah just gives Micro an exasperated look.

All of you infectiously giggle.

The rest of the night is spent in drunken laughter and terrible dancing. Jimmy was the surprise of the evening for busting out moves that put everyone to shame. Jen just looked on with a sly grin of pride. She got up and approached you, sitting down on the chair to your side.

“Hey, Byrne,” she smiled. “Listen, I never really got the chance to say this to you but thanks.”

“For what?” you say, slightly bewildered.

“For saving his life, dummy,” she laughs. “Jimmy told me you took two bullets just so he wouldn't get hurt. I can't really express how grateful I am, how grateful the kids are.”

“It's fine,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “Besides, who else would tell me awful dad jokes in the car?”

Jen just giggles, “Oh shit, he does that at work too, huh? I feel sorry for you.”

“No I enjoy them,” you grin. “It's cute how he thinks he's hilarious.”

“You and Pete should come round sometime,” she smiles. “I'll cook you dinner as a proper thanks.”

“I'd like that,” you say, returning the smile.

“Hey, darlin'?” Frank calls from near the makeshift bar. “We gotta go soon.”

“Excuse me,” you nod to Jen and walk over to Frank. “Go where?”

“We got a honeymoon to get on,” Frank grins in an adorable way.

“Tonight?!” you ask.

“I already packed your shit,” Frank nods. “We leave soon.”

“You've really thought all this out haven't you?” you say, amazed.

“Only the best for my girl,” he smiles.

 

**

  
  
Your tipsy self is bundled into a car with Frank and the driver he's hired takes you to the airport. From there, you're put on a private charter flight to Wilmington. You're vaguely wondering exactly how much this has all cost and whether Frank's been robbing a bank to pay for it.

On the other side, you're ferried in a taxi to a little log chalet and Frank insists on taking everything up to the cabin before coming back for you and sweeping you up in his arms. He carries you over the threshold as though you're made of glass.

“How you doin', Mrs Castiglione?” he smiles.

“This is just...” you trail off, looking around at the cute rustic interior. “It's perfect, Frank. Thank you.”

“I'm real happy you like it, darlin',” he grins. “I hoped you would.”

“Maybe you should change profession to wedding planner,” you joke.

“Not enough fightin' for my likin',” he laughs.

“Have you seen some brides?” you retort. “Fighting in the army is one thing but breaking up a bridezilla and her family is entirely different and I should know, that's a frequent 911 call.”

“I'll remember that,” Frank snorts before going to light the logs in the huge fireplace.

Soon there's a stunning orange glow cast around the cabin.

“You really are beautiful, girl,” Frank smiles at you, watching the dancing firelight wash over your skin.

You beckon him over and pull him into a languid kiss before sliding your hands up to cup his face. Frank puts his hand over yours, purposefully clinking your wedding bands together and he gives you a shy grin.

“Frank,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“Love ya too, Byrne,” Frank says with perfect calmness.

“Good,” you smile. “Now get me out of this dress.”

You spin around and Frank unzips and unlaces you, letting the swathes of material pool around your feet and you smirk to yourself as you hear the audible noise in Frank's throat as he catches sight of your underwear.

“Fuck, girl,” he breathes. “That for me?”

“Do I have another husband I don't know about?” you tease before turning round to give him the full display.

You're wearing a tight basque that pushes your breasts up for maximum effect and stockings because you remembered the last time Frank had seen you in some.

You look up into his eyes and there's that predatory gleam shining there but you can tell he's keeping it restrained.

“You don't hafta-” he says, trying to be a gentleman but you lie on the rug in front of the fire and hold your hand out for him.

He takes it and sits down next to you. You decide the best option is to not give him time to speak as you hungrily kissed him. He's relenting under your touch but he's still holding back.

“Darlin',” he pants as you break away for air. “Shit, I'm not gonna be able to control myself soon. I'd better give ya some room.”

“Don't you dare, Frank Castle,” you say firmly and grab his hands, placing them around your waist. “You're gonna fuck me right here and now.”

There's a growl that rips through his chest, “Fuck, girl, I'm tryna be good here.”

“I don't want you to be good,” you press. “I'm ready, Frank. I need you.”

You can tell he's fighting himself so hard, “'Aight but like I said before, you feel upset, you tell me and I'll move off. No questions asked.”

You hastily yank off his tux jacket and let your hands delve under his shirt, “Got it, now remind me again whose girl I am, Frank.”

“Thought you'd never fuckin' ask,” Frank smirks wickedly before pushing you to the ground and looming over you.

He leans on one hand, ripping his shirt open and buttons fly around you. You can't hide your blatant flush of arousal and he just chuckles letting his hand trail over the tight corseting on your waist. With no warning, he tears your underwear off, leaving you in just the basque and stockings.

“Gonna fuck ya like this if you don't mind, girl,” he says. “You look too fuckin' hot not to.”

“Only if you keep the shirt on like that,” you wink.

“Oh, is that how it is?” he chuckles mirthfully. “Can do.”

He leans back, shucking out of his trousers and boxers before laying back over you, tipping your chin and fiercely kissing you. You feel yourself writhing against his body, desperate for the closeness. Frank dips one hand down in between you and gently strokes his fingers against you. You moan into his kiss and you're sure you feel him smiling.

“Frank stop teasing,” you pant.

“Want it that bad, huh?” he smirks, positioning himself against your entrance. “Fuck, I love ya girl.”

He gently eases into you, wary that you've not had sex in a while and gives you a minute to adjust, his forehead pressed to yours. Gradually he begins methodically rolling his hips, starting at a slow pace.

“No, Frank,” you moan. “Don't you dare go slow. You fuck me like you did on that rooftop.”

Frank stops, staring into your eyes, “Are you absolutely sure, darlin'?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

“'Aight girl,” he nods. “Not gonna lie, been waitin' for this moment. You hold on now.”

He punctuates that sentence with a thrust so deep you arch up, you head lolling backwards as an obscene moan escapes your mouth.

“God I fuckin' love that sound,” Frank hisses, picking his speed up to a brutal pace.

You're a complete mess as he fucks you roughly. You rake your hands down his back which earns you a guttural grunt and you harshly kiss at any bit of skin you can find as he punishingly ruts into you.

“Tell me I can do it, girl,” he growls in your ear. “Tell me I can get rid a' that fuckin' scar now.”

You know how much it's bothered him and you know how restrained he's been for the past month. You nod and Frank grabs your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat to him. He viciously kisses down from your jaw to your collarbone and you feel his teeth grip around the scar that Russo had made, the spot which Russo had took from him. He tightens his bite slowly until the pain is mingling with the sex and you're involuntarily bucking against him.

“Fuck!” you cry out. “Harder!”

You've never heard a sound so sexually primal as Frank seems to fuck you even harsher and you feel the skin break on your neck.

“Frank!” you yell as your body tenses and your orgasm hits you sideways. Your legs clamp tightly to him and your nails dig into his back.

“Aww fuck!” Frank grunts as he pushes as far into you as he can go and finds his own violent release.

You both lay there, heavily panting, the sheen of sweat starting to bead on your skin as the fire crackles beside you.

Frank lazily laps at the bite mark, soothing the pain and kisses it gently, “Exactly as it fuckin' should be. You're mine girl, legally and physically.”

“And are you mine, Frank?” you chance the question.

“Always, darlin',” he smiles against your neck. “You know that.”

You both fall asleep by the roaring fire.

 

**

  
  
The honeymoon was surreal. There was no expectations on either of you other than to enjoy yourselves. You went for nature walks, still trained every morning, found cute little local bistros to eat in and fucked most of the nights away. You were almost desperately sad it was over so soon.

Before you knew it, you were back in your New York suburb house with your dopey dog and coming up on your first day at the 17th.

The new precinct wasn't much different to your old one, apart from a few more jaded older cops but Jimmy had a way of charming even the grumpiest of people and you soon made a name for yourselves as the go to partners if you wanted a laugh.

It still sounded weird whenever your names came over the radio though.

“Officers Allen and Castiglione, please respond. We got a 10-40 nearby you guys.”

“Well, let's go stop a fight,” Jimmy shrugs and puts the sirens on.

 

**

 

Frank's on the rooftop with Daredevil, looking down at the mess of unconscious bodies below.

“Fuck, they just keep comin' huh?” he says.

“Tell me about,” Matt groans. “We'd best get out of here. I can hear sirens.”

“Wait a sec,” Frank says, hunkering down so he's sat on his haunches as he sees the approaching patrol car.

He watches you get out of the car and put your hands on your hips like you always did when you were annoyed. It was a cute habit.

“It's Byrne, isn't it?” Matt laughs. “Of all the coincidences...”

“Just lemme watch her a moment, Red,” Frank smiles.

“You see her literally every day, Frank,” Matt points out with a wry grin.

“Can't have too much of a good thing, right?” Frank shrugs.

He sees you cataloguing the men on the ground and talking to Jimmy before Jimmy goes back to grab the radio. You look up suddenly, straight at him and he has to suppress a laugh as you gesture to the bunch of figures on the floor and fold your arms.

He gives you a shit eating smirk and a non committal shrug before blowing you a kiss which you return.

“God you two are nauseating,” Matt chuckles in a friendly way.

“Hey, you wanna fuckin' do this alone, Red?” Frank laughs. “I'm sayin' goodbye, ok? Then we'll head off.”

He looks back round to see you making gestures that he reads as 'see you at eleven'. He gives you a thumbs up before turning round.

“'Aight, let's take this party elsewhere,” Frank says, standing up, stealing once last glance down at you as you walked back over to Jimmy.

Fuck he was a lucky man. You even made that godawful police uniform look good, he thought as he watched your ass sway slightly as you moved.

Yep, married life suited him just fine, just fine indeed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been an absolute pleasure guys and I'll forever love these two <3.
> 
> Thanks for everybody who's left kudos and comments. I've truly appreciated them all. It's given me a real love for writing again.
> 
> Fun fact: Byrne is quite heavily based off of myself besides being a reader insert, even down to the same job (although it's very different across the pond). It's been nice sharing that aspect of myself with you guys
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> \- TLP x x x x


	18. Silence on the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's midnight outings with Matt Murdock are taking a toll on your relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, look who said this series was done for now but got random inspiration to do a couple of more chapters....that's right, this idiot. Not like I don't have loads of fics on the go or anything haha.
> 
> So I'm back with a little short for this series and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Warnings: Smut, fluff, minor gore (injuries)
> 
> Any private comments/messages etc my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com and now I also have Tumblr: theliveshipparagon (although be gentle, I'm a Tumblr virgin and I have no clue what I'm doing haha feel free to message me there)
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Standard I suck at proof reading disclaimer)

“Fuck.”

Frank crept in as quietly as he could. The pain in his ribs was immense and he was suffering a serious wound to his shoulder. You were really gonna chew his ass out this time...

Samson padded into the living room and immediately began jumping up at him and let out a small yip.

“Fuckin' shut up, ya goddamn mutt,” Frank hissed quietly. “Jesus fuckin' damn.”

He felt a stab of pain ripple down his side as he bent over to calm the overexcited dog before he could wake you up. He was really paying the price for his midnight antics now. Why the fuck had he agreed to help Red?

Sure it'd been a rush at first but these goddamn members of the Hand just kept springing up out of nowhere and Frank wasn't exactly a fucking superhero. He was a normal man when all was said and done, just with a very particular skill set. He didn't have Red's super senses and that'd cost him dearly when he took a katana to the shoulder.

He looked at the wound which was leaking blood and gore down his tactical vest. Definitely was gonna need stitches. He refused to wake you up for that. You'd been on an early shift and you needed your sleep. Frank had always dealt with his injuries in the past and this was no different.

He stumbled towards the kitchen but his bad leg gave out and he hit the side of the coffee table hard. Samson immediately bounded over, whining with concern in that way that only animals can.

“I'm alright, boy,” Frank grimaced, stroking the dog. “Just need some fuckin' rest before my old lady finds out and goes fuckin' nuts.”

He shrugged off his vest, letting it slide onto the coffee table and he could breathe a little easier now.

The sound of the kitchen light switch being flipped on caught his attention and he rapidly unclipped his gun from its holster, pointing it towards the figure silhouetted in the door frame.

“Graceful as ever, Frank,” you sighed. “And what am I gonna go nuts about?”

Shit. He'd been caught red handed. There was no way he could lie his way outta this one.

“Why are you on the floor?” you asked, moving to the living room light switch.

“Byrne, don't,” Frank pleaded but you didn't listen.

Frank saw your tired face morph into an expression of horror as the light came on.

“Fuck, Frank!” you yelled. “What the hell happened?!”

“Whatsamatta darlin'?” Frank said, trying to play it off. “I ain't pretty no more?”

“You're lying on the ground like a crippled old man,” you said, rushing to his side. “Oh my god, you got stabbed?!”

“Shoulda seen the other guy,” Frank quipped.

That earned him a harsh punch to the bicep and he had to laugh. Even though you were clearly worried about him, you weren't putting up with his bullshit.

_That's what I love about ya, darlin'._

“Hey, that was my fucking line if you remember?” you smirked.

“I borrow from the best, girl,” Frank chuckled before he had to stop because his lungs felt like they'd burst.

“Get on the couch,” you ordered.

“Naww, darlin'. I don't wanna bleed on it,” Frank wrinkled his nose.

“Frank Castle, you get on that couch _now_ ,” you barked. “I'm not gonna tell you again.”

“Yes Ma'am,” is all Frank replied.

This wasn't a battle he was going to win. You'd certainly gained a lot of confidence in the last couple of months and you had no problem challenging him about anything these days. He heaved himself onto the couch, a slight grin on his face as he watched you fuss over him.

He took in your pyjamas, which was still his old gym clothes. He took in your hair that you always braided before bed so it wouldn't knot easily. He took in your stalwart expression as you assessed the damage done to him.

“God you're beautiful,” Frank smiled and he caught the tiny blush in your cheeks, even though you did your best to turn away.

“Did they hit you on the head as well?” you joked.

“A man can't appreciate his fuckin' wife, now?” Frank laughed. “Come on, darlin', smile for me.”

“Frank,” you sighed, exasperated. “I need to fix this before it gets infected. Stop distracting me. I'm meant to be asleep right now.”

“But you were in the kitchen,” Frank said confused.

“Only because I was worried about you, dumbass,” you said, tearing his ripped shirt off of him.

_Fuck darlin', you're gonna have to do that sometime in a bedroom situation..._

“I'm 'aight, girl,” Frank replied. “Nothin' I ain't ever handled before.”

“You were gone for a while,” you said quietly. “And you didn't answer your phone. Neither did Matt. I thought...”

Frank saw the tiredness creep back into your face and he felt a pang of guilt. He'd made you worry. He'd made you stay up waiting on him. He'd never meant for his night time missions to affect you that badly. He didn't even realise they had.

“Were ya scared for me, Byrne?” Frank asked gently.

“I'm always scared for you Frank,” you sighed. “You're coming home with more injuries every day.”

He grabbed for you, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek.

“I'm real sorry, darlin'. I didn't mean to make ya anxious. I don't like seein' ya upset. Come 'ere,” he said, pulling you onto his lap even though you protested. He held you close, ignoring the burning pain in his body and he kissed you gently. “I'll stop if ya want me to.”

“I know you need it, Frank,” you replied softly. “You'll always need the war but I'm scared you're not gonna come home one day.”

“Life of a soldier, girl,” Frank said, pressing his forehead to yours. “I was never sure I was gonna come home myself. Maria used to go outta her fuckin' mind 'bout it.”

“I'm beginning to know how she felt,” you mumbled.

“But darlin', I get the same damn thing. Every time ya go out and be a cop, I'm wonderin' if this is the day some punk kid is gonna shoot ya or some gangbanger is gonna run ya over or somethin'. I didn't want ya to go back to ya job. We got enough money to never work again but I'd never dream of askin' ya to give it up, even though it scares me to fuckin' death. I get it, I really do.”

“I know,” you whispered, clutching him close and Frank felt a wave of affection towards you. “I gotta patch you up now.”

“I'm fine, Byrne, I can do it,” Frank pressed. “Go ta bed.”

“Frank, you're always taking care of me. For once, can you just let me take care of you?” you said firmly, looking him squarely in the eyes.

He thought about it for a while. Maybe he could drop the protectiveness for an hour or so, might even be nice to have someone else tending to his wounds.

“'Aight, darlin', ya do what ya need to,” Frank nods.

 

 

**

 

  
  
  
4 fucking a.m.

Not a single goddamn text or anything and you find _that_.

You're supposed to be in the Precinct at 7 a.m. and you'd barely slept. You felt like you were drunk as you moved through the medicine cabinet, pulling various bottles and tinctures out before you lost your patience and just swept all of them into a box before padding back out to the living room.

Frank was sitting there shirtless, stroking Samson and seemingly ignoring the large gash on his shoulder and the enormous bruise that spanned his whole stomach.

_Jesus, Frank...what the hell have you gotten yourself into?_

“Must look fuckin' bad if you're pullin' that face,” Frank grins in that lopsided way.

He was such an asshole to deflect this whole thing with humour. You'd readily punch him again if he didn't look so beat up already.

“You're not winning any pageants any time soon,” you sigh.

“Don't think I'd look good in a fuckin' tiara,” Frank snorts.

You straddle him, injecting some numbing agent around his stab wound before you methodically clean it out. To his credit, Frank barely moves as you do this, even though you know it'll be more painful than the limit of the anaesthetic. Slowly you begin stitching him back up, after making sure there was no more weeping in the lesion. It was a slow process but you wanted to make sure it was done right. Frank already had enough uneven scarring from botched self repair jobs.

“Feels good havin' ya close,” Frank mumbles, resting his hands on your thighs. “I ain't used to someone takin' care a' me.”

“Yeah well, that's what happens when your wife is stubborn and gives a shit, Frank,” you say, tying off the ends of the stitches before you tape some gauze down over it.

“I ever told ya I love ya, girl?” Frank laughs softly.

“You can't charm your way outta this one, Castle,” you hiss. “I'm pissed. I'm pissed and I'm tired and it's not a good combination.”

“Ain't nothin' I can do to change ya mood, huh?” Frank murmurs, letting his hands wander further up your thighs.

“Frank, I'm doing a medical procedure on you and I need to concentrate, knock it off,” you order. “You can start your grovelling apology by letting me do what I need to in peace.”

“'Aight,” Frank nods, glancing to his shoulder. “Shit, not bad, Byrne.”

You ignore his clumsy praise and stand up, taking his hand and dragging him to the shower. He's a bloody mess and he needs to clean up.

You put the shower stool in the cubicle and force him to sit before taking off his heavy boots, socks, pants and boxers. He makes a lot of innuendos but you ignore those too.

You grab the shower head before turning it on and gingerly washing the gore from his body. The water in the bottom streams pink as you continue. You feel ridiculous doing this to a huge ass marine but you push through the embarrassment.

“Byrne, you're gettin' soaked,” Frank points out.

“Doesn't matter,” you shrug. “I'm helping you, not trying to keep dry.”

“Aww darlin',” Frank says guiltily. “You're too fuckin' good for me sometimes.”

“Try all the time,” you smirk, flicking water into his face.

“Not gonna argue that,” Frank chuckles quietly. “How's it lookin'?”

You take a step back to assess. He definitely looks a lot more put together than ten minutes ago. His shoulder is nicely bandaged but the bruising is becoming fierce.

“You'll live,” you say, turning the water off. “Just don't wear any crop tops.”

“Duly noted,” Frank says with an amused expression. “Let's get in bed, darlin'.”

“I'm not done,” you reply, pulling him out of the cubicle before drying him off and stripping your own sodden clothing to heft into the laundry bag.

You grab the arnica cream before directing him to the bedroom where you force him to lie down on the bed.

“This some kinky shit?” Frank asks.

“You think I've got the energy to be sexual right now?” you fire back.

“Fair point,” comes the gruff reply.

You apply the cream to his bruised abdomen, gently massaging it in. You can see Frank's jaw is clenched heavily but he doesn't make a sound. Eventually he even seems to relax as you continue your movements.

“That should help with the worst of it but it's still gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow,” you inform him before you get up to wash your hands.

“Byrne, I'm sorry,” Frank says in a small voice. “I fucked up bad tonight. I'll make it up to ya. I promise.”

You come back out and crawl underneath the sheets, “Yeah yeah, just shut up. I have two hours left before I gotta get up for work.”

Frank visibly winces, “Shit, I really am sorry, darlin'.”

“I know,” you say softly, snuggling further into the pillow. “I might have to take a sick day or something because I don't think I'm gonna be operational on two hours sleep. I'll see.”

“Least I know ya love me,” Frank mumbles, seeming truly ashamed of himself. “Not many guys can say their wives would do what you do for me.”

“Buy me a fucking float parade,” you mumble. “Good night, Frank.”

Frank leans over and kisses your lips softly, “Good night, darlin' and thank you. I mean that.”

 

 

**

 

 

You made it into work but fuck was it a long day. Jimmy had to take the brunt of the load but he was more than understanding when you told him the reason why.

“Shit, you're gonna kill yourself with stress if you're not careful, Byrne,” Jimmy chides as you pull up at a gas station that'd been rolled over.

“I'd be fine if he just gave me a text once in a while but he always goes dark when he's out and it drives me insane,” you sigh.

“Either he needs to get his shit together or you need to invest in a coffee company,” he laughs.

“No way am I drinking that piss,” you wrinkle your nose. “It may keep you awake but only in body, not mentally.”

“Yeah I guess you're right,” Jimmy grins. “Come on, we spin this out long enough it could be our last job of the day.”

“A-fucking-men,” you whoop before getting out of the patrol car.

You both walk in and immediately your gut tells you something is off. The cashier is looking far too distressed still. You reflexively reach for your gun. The fervent minute headshake of the cashier at your actions tells you all you need to know.

The perp was still here.

“Police! Come out with your hands up!” you bark, which startles Jimmy but he takes your lead, bringing his own gun up.

There's a small sound to your left and you whirl around, only to see a guy burst through the magazine rack which clocks you in the mouth but you push it aside, scrambling for him before he makes it out of the door.

You grab onto the back of his jacket, yanking him towards you and as he stumbles backwards, he wildly punches which connects with your eye socket. You have to physically tackle him to the ground whilst he still tries to get blows in and you know he's done damage because you can feel warm liquid dripping down your face.

Jimmy dives into the melee, wrenching the guy's hands behind his back whilst you stick the cuffs on him and he reads him his rights.

“I got it from here,” Jimmy nods, roughly pulling the guy up to a standing position. “You're a fucking idiot, kid. That shit's on CCTV.”

“Let go of me, you asshole!” the man squirms. “I ain't done nothing!”

“Somehow I think that's a pile of horseshit,” Jimmy laughs. “You're going in the cells tonight. Byrne, you might wanna look at that.”

He points to your forehead and you assume that's where the blood is coming from.

“I'll get the cashier's statement, you get him to processing,” you nod. “I'll be alright.”

“Well the good news at least is this case is definitely gonna take us 'til the end of our shift,” Jimmy smirks before pushing the guy out of the gas station and bundling him into the patrol car.

 

 

**

 

 

  
  
You've been dreading going home. After the big furore you made about Frank getting injured, here you were with a split eyebrow, a split lip and bruises on your torso. You were sure Frank was going to think you were a massive hypocrite.

You took a deep breath and walked in the door. The second Frank spotted you, he was immediately pressing you to the wall, looking with panic at your face.

“What tha fuck happened?” he says quickly, running a thumb delicately over the butterfly stitches on your eyebrow.

“Gas station robber,” you explain. “Threw a magazine rack at me and got a few licks in before I restrained him. And before you say it, I know, ok? I know you're just gonna compare this to last night, so let me just stop you there.”

“Darlin', I don't give a shit about that,” Frank says seriously. “I just wanna know if you're alright.”

“It hurts but I've had worse,” you shrug. “Doesn't compare to being stabbed or shot, that's for sure. Are you doing ok?”

“Fuckin' peachy,” Frank responds, never taking his hand off of your face. “Had the best nurse a man could ask for.”

You smile broadly but the gash on your lip soon stifles that.

“Shit, girl. Am I not teachin' ya right? Usually assholes never get the drop on ya.”

“Usually I've had more sleep,” you counter.

“Fuck...” Frank hangs his head. “This is my fault. I shouldn't have let ya go into work today, not after last night.”

“It's fine,” you say. “I've got the next three days off at least. Time to heal and all.”

“I ain't goin' out tonight,” Frank declares.

“I should hope not with those injuries,” you laugh.

“I mean it, darlin',” Frank presses. “I'm gonna spend the night with ya. I ain't been doin' that enough lately. My girl needs me. _I_ need my girl. Can't keep crawlin' in at all hours a' the mornin'. That ain't a normal life for either of us.”

“It'd be nice to go to bed together,” you muse. “I've missed that. Doesn't even feel the same when I do night shifts.”

“Then that's what we'll do,” Frank nods. “I'll order the biggest fuckin' pizza out there, we'll watch some shitty movie and we'll go to bed like a regular married couple.”

“You know how to sweet talk a girl, Frank Castle,” you laugh.

He picks you up bridal style and gingerly lays you down on the couch before sitting down next to you and pulling blankets around you both.

“Look at us,” you giggle. “Two banged up people fighting against the world.”

Frank snorts, “Two fuckin' morons who want to save the world and can't duck fast enough more like.”

“Least I duck better than you,” you retort, pointing to his still bandaged shoulder.

“Come on, darlin',” Frank pouts. “That ain't fair. Ya ain't fightin' ancient ninjas, just some shitty small time criminals.”

“Hey, I've fought the Hand too,” you stick your tongue out. “And I held my own.”

“I train my girl right, that's why,” Frank laughs. “I just lead by a shitty example. Shouldn'ta looked at my goddamn phone at the wrong time.”

Oh....you never really thought he actually read your messages when he was out. Was it your fault he was distracted enough that he got stabbed?

“Did I...” you start.

“Darlin', no,” Frank says firmly, cupping your face in his huge hands. “It's my fuckin' fault. I usually read ya texts when everything is quiet, I just got sloppy and couldn't wait. They...it makes me happy that ya worry about me so much. Gives me a reason to keep fightin', you know? Last night....ah shit....there were so many of 'em, I kinda lost hope.”

“Frank,” you murmur, running your hand through his overgrown buzz cut. “I have no idea why that's so fucking romantic but it is. Jesus Christ we have a fucked up life....but I'm glad you found me.”

“Ya know, you're the one that found me, Byrne,” Frank smiles warmly, the affection bleeding through the bruised face. “This antisocial cop readin' books. Never woulda believed she'd be my girl.”

Despite the cut on your lip, you lean forward and kiss him. Frank was the most gruff and unrefined man you'd ever met but he sure was a sweetheart at his core. It always continually surprised you when he came out with some of the romantic lines that he did. He really had opened himself up a lot to you since those days in the library.

The kiss deepens and it's not long before you're both panting for air with Frank leaning more and more over you. He tries to push you down to the cushions but he twists his torso in such a way that he aggravates his bruising.

“Shit, fuck!” he hisses through his teeth. “God-fuckin'-damn, stupid fuckin' body.”

“Frank, let me,” you say, pushing him into his sitting position again. “Don't hurt yourself.”

You straddle his lap, careful not to press yourself too much to his abdomen before you pick up where you left off. Frank's hands begin exploring immediately, tugging your cop issue undershirt off before carelessly throwing it somewhere. He leans back and his eyes darken as he notices your own bruising.

“Tell me that fuckin' piece a' shit's name,” he orders. “I'm gonna fuckin' kill him when he gets out.”

“Leave it, Frank,” you whisper, kissing up the side of his throat, trying to distract him from his impending murderous rage. “He's already in jail awaiting trial.”

“He hurt my fuckin' girl,” Frank growls. “Ain't nobody allowed to do that n' live after.”

You roll your eyes and murmur as seductively as you can into his ear, “Do you wanna think about that Frank or do you want me to fuck you? Your choice.”

You can feel the twitch against your legs as his arousal starts winning out.

“And how exactly would ya fuck me, darlin',” Frank says in little more than a rumble. “If I chose that.”

“Well first, I'd start with....” you say, lightly writhing on him so he feels the contact on his groin.

“I'm listenin', girl,” Frank grunts and you can see the slight lustful glaze to his eyes.

“Then I'd get rid of these clothes,” you say. “They're in my way.”

Frank leans up a little, one hand on the back of your neck as he rasps into your ear, “Tear it off me like ya did last night. That was fuckin' hot, darlin'.”

Frank sure was a kinky bastard. You would swear blind he'd never been this way with anyone else because all you'd ever hear from his old associates was that he was extremely sweet with his previous girlfriends. Not that you minded of course....the precedent was already set for you the first night in the lecture room. Still, it kind of made you feel special that he opened that side up to you and only you.

“You had a convenient hole to start ripping from last time,” you laugh.

Frank just casually digs his combat knife out of his leg holster and slices the neckline a little before giving you a raised eyebrow, “And now?”

“Oh well...” you smirk before grabbing the two sides of the t-shirt and wrenching the fabric into small strips which earns you a low groan. “Now I can get somewhere.”

You diverted your attention, now that Frank was shirtless, to his hefty belt buckle which you deftly undid before you stood up, pulling his jeans and boxers down and off.

“Come back, girl,” Frank husks, patting at his thighs.

You have different plans, however.

You kneel in front of him and his eyes go wide for a second before he realises what you're doing. You move your mouth, letting your tongue lick a long line from the base of his cock to the tip before your lips close over him and you sink your head as far down as you can go.

“Oh shit!” Frank hisses. “Fuck, girl!”

You tease him for a good while with kitten licks before he loses his control and his hand winds into your hair, pulling you down onto him more forcefully. You can feel your throat constricting around him and there's a lot of audible groaning.

“Darlin', get up here, now,” Frank grunts. “I need ya.”

He helps you up and you step out of your remaining clothing before straddling him once more. You position yourself over his cock and lower yourself slowly. It's almost agonising how slow you're taking it but you don't want to push either of you too hard.

You rock on top of him, rolling your hips as you set a steady but deep pace. Frank doesn't quite know where to put his hands with all the bruising you have going on so you help him out by placing them on the sides of your thighs. He takes that as an excuse to pull you up and down more forcefully, burying himself into you.

You gradually get braver, placing your hands on his chest to give you more leverage as your movements become more and more harsh, driving yourself on top of him.

“Fuck, girl,” Frank groans. “I always forget how good it feels when ya ride me like that.”

“Well you never let me take control,” you smirk, starting to bounce up and down harder.

Frank's fingers are almost painful as he digs them into your thighs, “Well go on then, girl, ya do what ya want.”

“I could do anything, Frank,” you murmur in his ear.

“Show me,” he grunts.

Your fingers card through his hair before you roughly yank his head backwards, exposing his neck and throat. You make a great display of raking your teeth along the vulnerable skin and you swear you feel him shiver slightly.

“If ya gonna do it, fuckin' do it. Don't tease me n' chicken out,” Frank hisses.

You felt a surge of aggression at his blatant challenge and bite down hard on the soft flesh of the side of his neck. His hands reflexively wind around you, steadying himself through the pain.

“Atta girl,” he chuckles. “What else ya got?”

You lift up as high as you can whilst still keeping his cock in you before dropping back down hard against him.

“Fuck!” he bellows and the sound echoes around the room.

Emboldened, you pull his head to yours, leaving harsh kisses on his mouth before you capture his bottom lip in your teeth and bite down slightly there too.

It's like a switch flips because one minute you had all the control and the next Frank is sat up properly and has a hand in your hair, keeping you steady whilst he ruts upwards with vicious thrusts. The sounds he's making are deep and primal as he brutally takes control back. All you can do is cling onto him as he takes what he wants from your body.

“Come on, girl, gimme more,” he grunts and you realise he wants you to be rough with him still.

You drag your nails up his back and that only spurs him on to be more feral with you.

“Shit!” he groans before almost coming to a stop still as he leans back into the couch. “Sorry darlin', couldn't help myself. You go on n' finish it now.”

Your hand trails down the front of your body as you lazily grind against him, keeping him just on the edge for now.

“Ohhh,” he smirks. “Ya gonna give me a show, huh? Let me see ya, girl.”

You know it drives Frank crazy when you touch yourself so you make a great display of making the process as slow as possible. Your fingers find your clit and begin rubbing small circles to which Frank makes a noise almost like a purr in his appreciation as he watches your movements and your expression.

It really doesn't take long until you're on the edge yourself and you begin to bounce again. Curiously Frank puts his hands on your hips, keeping you still.

“Nuh uh,” he rasps. “I wanna see ya face when ya come for me, girl.”

Well you weren't about to argue. You felt the knot tighten in your core and just as your orgasm started cresting, Frank completely lost control, driving as deep into you as he could go. All sorts of profanities escaped your mouth along with his name as you heavily spasmed around him.

“Fuck, I love it when ya say shit like that,” Frank grunts, beginning to thrust upwards whilst he tightly grips the back of your neck, one thumb pressed hard on your throat. “Who tha fuck ya belong to, huh girl?”

“You, Frank,” you whimper, the sensations in your body becoming overwhelming.

“You're goddamn right,” Frank hisses and he wraps his arms around your waist, tightly crushing you to his body as his own orgasm rips through him and you feel his cock twitching in you and the warm fluid starting to run down the tops of your thighs.

“I think we both needed that,” you laugh, the endorphins making it almost a giggle.

You end up leaning against him as your legs start shaking from the exertion and without a word, he hugs you gently, placing your chin against his good shoulder.

“I'm still gonna rip the lil' fuckin' shit's head off who hurt ya,” Frank mumbles against you.

“Frank, just shut up and hold me,” you smile.

“Yes Ma'am,” Frank grins. “And I ain't letting ya go until ya gotta go back to work.”

 

 

 

**

 

  
  
  
The three days pass by so quickly. You and Frank reconnect a lot in that time. He takes you to the movies and says he's fulfilled a long ambition to put his arm around you like a lovestruck teenager. He takes you to the park with Samson and it ends up becoming a mini training session as you throw a football between you and watch as your dumb dog tries in vain to snatch it out of the air. It's safe to say you didn't realise how much domesticity you'd been missing out on when Frank was helping Matt.

“Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?” Frank asks as the two of you sit on the park bench, watching the world go by.

“Just that I'm happy,” you smile.

Franks face splits into the widest grin, “Me too, darlin'. Think I just gotta remember ta take breaks sometimes. I ain't realised how much I've been neglectin' ya and that ain't fair. My mission ain't the one with Red, my mission is you. Always has been since I found ya in the alleyway gettin' strangled ta death.”

“Yeah that wasn't one of my finest moments,” you laugh.

“Mine neither,” Frank snorts. “I ain't been that fuckin' pissed at a girl before.”

“You made that quite clear,” you say with a raised eyebrow.

“Shit,” Frank flushes. “You ain't never gonna let that go, huh?”

“You dangled me off a high rise, Frank,” you say. “Tends to stick in a girl's memory when she's looking at the ground from several stories up.”

“I woulda never have dropped ya, just so ya know,” Frank mumbles, embarrassed. “Just wanted ta make a point.”

“Point made,” you giggle.

“When I go out again with Red,” Frank says gingerly. “Is there anythin' I can do ta stop ya worryin' so much? I don't want ya stayin' up for me and losin' sleep.”

“Just reply to my messages,” you say simply. “That's all it takes. I know there'll be times when you're pinned down or whatever but in the downtime, just let me know you're not dead.”

Frank nods, “'Aight, I promise, I'll get better at doin' that.”

“That's all I ask,” you say. “I'm not looking to stop you going out, it's important what you're doing but I just need to know you're alright before I can sleep properly.”

“You're fuckin' cute, ya know that?” Frank smiles.

“Oh shut up,” you hiss, smacking him in the arm.

Frank gently turns your face to his and kisses you softly, “I love ya, darlin'.”

“Love you too,” you reply, pressing your forehead to his.

“Now come on, I still got time ta treat my girl, so....ice cream?” he smirks in that adorably mischievous way.

“What do you think?” you laugh. “Just try to keep yours in the bowl this time and not on my face.”

“I ain't making promises,” Frank winks, before standing up and gallantly pulling you to your feet. “It's too fuckin' fun not to.”

 

 

 

**

 

  
  
  
You come in from your next early shift and Frank's already gone out.

He's left you a little note on the coffee table which you pick up.

 

_Gone out with Red. Left you some food in the oven. I'll reply if you text me. Don't stay up too late, sweetheart or I'll smack your ass until it's purple when I get back._

_Love, Frank x_

 

 

Yep, that was Frank alright, sweet and gruff all in the same sentence.

You walk to the kitchen and see that he's left some home-made lasagna for you which you hungrily wolf down. He really was a surprisingly good cook.

Hours go by and you're about ready to go to bed so you text Frank.

 

**Byrne: Still alive?**

 

It's actually not even five minutes later that you get a reply and you're mildly impressed.

 

 

**Pete: Still kicking**.

 

**Byrne: I'm gonna go to sleep. Be safe, love you.**

 

**Pete: Just took out a base camp. Sweet dreams girl. See you in the morning.**

 

 

Knowing he was ok, it didn't take you long at all to fall asleep and you were grateful for that.

 

 

**

 

 

You woke up the next morning feeling some warmth behind you and you stretched your hand back only to discover it was actually Samson who'd jumped into the bed with you. You were still half asleep when you got up and you wondered if Frank had already started his day. He could run off very little sleep no problem which was a habit you were never going to pick up yourself.

“Frank?” you call as you padded out to the living room.

That's odd. He wasn't anywhere to be seen.

“Frank?” you shout, a little bit louder this time.

You look to the coat rack and see the lack of his leather trench coat and his tactical vest. The sideboard is also empty of his guns still.

What the hell was going on? Was he not back yet?

You go back into the bedroom to grab your cell and see he's not texted you since last night.

 

**Byrne: Are you still out?**

 

You make yourself some breakfast and it's been about thirty minutes since you last looked at your cell. Still nothing.

You make the decision to ring Matt.

“Hey, Byrne,” Matt's voice comes on the line and he sounds extremely tired. “Bit early for a chat isn't it?”

“Are you guys still out?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” Matt says puzzled.

“Well Frank's not home yet,” you explain.

“He's not?” Matt sounds more alert now. “Byrne, we destroyed two bases for the Hand last night and both went home after that. Are you saying Frank's not come back at all? He's not just come in and then gone out again?”

“All of his weapons are gone,” you say. “So unless he's doing a day mission, no he's not come back.”

“Shit,” Matt swears. “I swear to you, Byrne, he was fine when I left him.”

“I'm gonna try and call him,” you say.

“Keep me posted,” Matt says firmly.

You hang up and dial Frank's phone. It just rings and rings until it trips to voicemail. You try twice more but you get the same mocking answer message.

You were more than a bit panicked by now. What if something had happened to him? What if he was....if he was dead?

You try one more time and the line clicks off halfway through ringing. That meant either he couldn't talk right now or someone had his cell. Neither of those were good possibilities.

You make the decision to call in sick at work. Not like your mind was particularly in it right now.

Your phone rings and you dive for it, seeing Frank's false name on the screen.

“Hello?!” you say almost breathlessly.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the line....

You heard Frank screaming.

“Do I have the pleasure of talking to Frank's lover?” a low voice says cordially.

“Who are you and what are you doing to him?” you demand.

“Manners, young lady,” the voice chides. “Politeness is such a lost art. Answer my question and I might answer yours.”

“I'm Frank's wife, now who are you?” you repeat, trying to keep the sheer terror from creeping into your voice.

“Ohhhh,” the voice chuckles and the sound goes quieter as he appears to move away from the speaker. “You never told me you got married, Mr Castle. That is certainly a surprise. I will definitely have to meet the lady who captured 'The Punisher's' heart.”

“You fuckin' piece a' shit! You don't go anywhere near her, ya fuckin' hear me?! Byrne! Byrne, don't come lookin' for me!” Frank yells to both his captor and to you.

“Byrne is it?” the smooth voice says, becoming louder as the phone is obviously back against his face. “I have a simple proposal for you and a rather fun game. You find Frank Castle in twenty four hours and I'll let him live. You don't, I'll find you and believe me, young lady, you don't want me to do that.”

“You fuckin' sonavabitch!” Frank bellows in the background. “I'll fuckin' kill ya! I'll fuckin' kill all a' ya! Byrne, I'm in-”

There's a loud cry of agony as someone stops Frank from shouting out where he is by force. You feel your stomach drop through the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, the tears at the corners of your eyes finally spilling over onto your cheeks.

“Because Mr Castle owed me a favour which he never delivered on,” the voice says with a hint of mirth. “I do so hope you make it in time. It would be wonderful to see exactly what kind of woman you are.”

“Oh you'll fucking see that alright,” you growl. “Enjoy it while it lasts becoming I'm coming for you, whoever you are.”

"Excellent,” the voice chuckles. “I look forward to it. Goodbye, Mrs Castle.”

_Oh I'm coming for you and you'd better hope I'm feeling fucking merciful....._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy to see them back for now?


	19. Silence on the Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty four hours and counting to find Frank Castle...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Just dropping another part of this short arc down :)
> 
> Warnings: Violence
> 
> Also holy moly over 250 kudos! I never would've expected that when I first started this series :o. Much love to all of you still reading!
> 
> Any private comments/prompts/one shot ideas my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com and my tumblr is theliveshipparagon
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Insert I suck at proofreading here)

Twenty four hours. That's all you had to find Frank.

You should have really called Matt back but instead your first action is to call Micro.

“Hey Byrne, what's kicking?” Micro says pleasantly. “I was actually gonna ask if you could make Leo a birthday cake sometime and-”

“Frank's been kidnapped,” you blurt out, desperate to shut the hacker up. “I need help David.”

“Shit, really?!” Micro cries. “Fuck, ok, what do you need me to do?”

“See if it's possible to track his cell. Some fucking psychopath has given me a day to find him or else.”

“Or else what?” Micro asks.

“I don't fucking know David!” you half scream into the speaker, agitated beyond belief. “They were torturing him when I last heard so you fucking work it out!”

“Alright! Shit! Calm down!” Micro says. “I'm on it, ok? I'll call you the second I know something.”

You hang up, not waiting around for another second before you call Matt.

“Tell me it's good news,” Matt asks immediately after two rings.

“Someone has him,” you explain. “I don't know who the fuck he was but he took him, Matt. They're doing all sorts of shit to him and they told me I have twenty four hours to find him. I've got Micro on tracing his cell right now.”

“Alright, that's good. Get over here, Byrne. I need to talk it through with you,” Matt says calmly.

“Fuck that, I gotta go find him!” you hiss. “I don't have time to make plans!”

“Would you stop being just like Frank for one second?!” Matt shouts. “You _do_ need a plan because you sure as shit are not going to find him by running around on your own. Besides, Frank left me a to do list in case this situation ever arose so get your ass over here right now, Byrne and drop the dog off at the office on the way. Foggy will look after him.”

You'd never heard Matt get so fucking bossy before. You were pretty tempted to just ignore him and do your own thing. I mean you were a fucking cop for Christ's sake. You do detective work all the time. But.....if Frank really did have something in place like Matt said, you needed to know about it.

 

 

After you dropped off Samson and started to Matt's apartment, you got a phone call from Micro.

“Anything?” you ask, not even bothering to say hello.

“Nothing. Whoever has him is good at scrambling their tracks. I can't get a clear location, only a general wide area somewhere around the Hell's Kitchen vicinity,” Micro informs you. “I'll keep tabs on it and I'll ring you if anything changes.”

Shit.

Well at least there was one good piece of news. Frank wasn't that far away that a twenty four hour deadline was going to be an impossible task from the start. Whoever had him clearly hadn't rigged the game at least. That meant they wanted a real possibility of you arriving....

As you're walking down the corridor to Matt's apartment, he opens the door like he heard you coming...which he probably did knowing him.

“Come in,” he says, waving you through the door.

When you get down to his living room he motions for you to sit on the couch but you can't. You're far too damn restless.

“Alright,” Matt says, unphased. “Standing it is. Now when Frank and I started doing this team up, he set specific rules regarding you.”

“He did?” you ask in surprise.

“You might not believe this but all he ever does is talk about you like a stuck record,” Matt smiles but only briefly given the situation. “Byrne, he thought this might happen someday. That either he would be taken or that he'd be killed. He left contingency plans here for both of those occasions so you'd be alright.”

_Shit Frank. Can't believe you thought that far ahead. If I ever find you I'm gonna lock us in the bedroom for two weeks to say thank you._

Matt moves his hand under his couch to pull out a trunk, “This is the one for the kidnap scenario I believe. Go on, open it. I don't know what he put inside. I only know the instructions I'm supposed to give you.”

You flip the trunk open and Matt must have heard your intake of breath because he puts his hand on your shoulder in an effort to calm you. Truth is you didn't need to be soothed.

_Thank you, Frank. You've given me everything I need._

“What's in there?” Matt asks.

“Guns,” you reply, picking up an assault rifle. “A fuck load of guns.”

“He seriously left you weapons?” Matt queries. “I thought he hated you getting involved in fights?”

“Clearly he knows me well enough to know I wouldn't sit back while he was in danger so he's giving me a good chance here,” you say, picking the many many guns out of the container and lining them up.

There's pistols, rifles, shotguns and a sniper rifle all ready to go, along with a briefcase stuffed with ammo. You're about to close the lid of the trunk when you notice a slip of white buried in what you thought was just a black fabric lining at the bottom. It's not until you take it out that you realise it's actually a kevlar suit with a note tucked into it.

 

_You're a warrior sweetheart but that doesn't mean you're invincible.  
Stay alive for me girl._

_Frank_

 

“What the hell?” you murmur, unfurling the suit out and running your fingers along the rough texture.

You feel Matt's hand move down your shoulder and along your arm to find the fabric himself.

“Huh,” Matt breathes. “Guess he found the guy who made my Daredevil suit. This is definitely his handiwork.”

“I can't believe Frank made me a bulletproof outfit,” you say in complete bewilderment.

“You do have a habit of getting shot and stabbed,” Matt smiles wryly. “This will lower the odds of that happening again and....geez, Frank, never knew you had that much of a sense of humour....”

“What?” you say, trying to look where he was touching.

Your eyes fall on the chest area. You might not have seen it in the dim light of Matt's home but once you really look, you see a skull motif like Frank bears on his tactical vest, only it's black...and it's made of velvet.

“Is he shitting me?!” you cry and Matt can't hold his chuckle back any longer. “This is a fucking joke right?”

“He probably thought it was sweet,” Matt grins. “And the Punisher skull is just another way to mark you as his, isn't it?”

“Yeah he loves doing that,” you mutter. “Where did he even get my measurements from?”

“Not important, Byrne,” Matt says softly.

“Right right. What's the instructions?”

“First off he said don't do anything stupid. Second that you should use those you know to help you rather than charging in half assed by yourself. Third that he'll be trying equally as hard to get back to you,” Matt recites.

God you hoped he was trying his best. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack right now. All you really knew was that he was somewhere in Hell's Kitchen and that wasn't a lot of help to you currently.

Use those you know....

Well you were already using Micro and Matt but maybe....

“Shit, I know who can help,” you say, coming to a realisation.

“Who?” Matt asks.

“We've got to get to Alias Investigations,” you say before you close the lid of the trunk.

 

 

**

 

 

Frank's throat had burned out from the screaming long ago. It felt like he was swallowing glass every time he gulped.

How the fuck could he have been so stupid?!

He'd allowed himself ten seconds walking down an alleyway to send a cutesy text to you and he'd only gotten halfway through writing it when a syringe got shot into his neck. He should have been alert. He shouldn't have let his guard down until he was home with you.

Ah god-fucking-damn....

He was just imagining how panicked you were right now. He seriously hoped Red was doing what he'd asked and was taking care of you before you did something unbelievably idiotic. It'd be just like you to tear apart half the city to find him. You both had that same destructive streak when you got pissed.

“Comfy?” one of the goons says, sneering at him in his binds on a chair.

“Yeah I'll be fuckin' comfy when ya come over here and I can rip ya fuckin' face off,” Frank retorts, ignoring the pain it caused him to speak.

“You're not in a position to do shit, Punisher,” the guy laughs.

“Only 'cause ya scared I'd beat ya in a straight fuckin' fight,” Frank growls. “Even ya boss couldn't take me down, so ya think a lil' maggot like yaself is worth shit?”

That earned him a blow to the stomach and Frank coughed, wheezing for air as the spittle dripped from his mouth to his lap. Shit, there was still blood in it. That wasn't good. He should have stopped bleeding a while back when they'd left him alone to recover.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Castle,” the goon hisses, grabbing Frank's longer hair and yanking his head back. “It's not like I have orders to keep you unharmed or anything.”

“Then fuckin' do it,” Frank challenges before headbutting the guy out of the blue. “All you fuckin' people, you're all goddamn talk.”

“I'm going to enjoy fucking your wife up,” the goon spits, rubbing the forming bruise on his head.

“Don't think that's gonna happen somehow,” Frank chuckles. “You know, my ol' lady, she ain't this cowerin' lil' girl. She could take down guys like you long before I knew her. Now? Now I've been trainin' her so fuckin' imagine what she can do now, huh? Your punk ass don't stand a chance.”

“That weak little voice on the phone tells me otherwise, Castle,” the guy snorts. “She sounded scared as shit.”

“You're fuckin' funeral,” Frank shrugs. “You'll be sorry ya ever underestimated my girl.”

 

 

**

 

“Fuck off,” comes the monotone reply to you knocking on the door of Alias Investigations.

“Jessica, it's Byrne,” you say, leaning against the side of the door. “I need your help.”

“Don't remember you. Not interested.”

You didn't have time for this shit. You aimed a well placed kick at the weakest point of the door and it crashed open, flinging into the wall on the other side.

“Are you fucking crazy?!” Jessica says coming into sight. “Oh, it's you. The cop. You should have said so.”

“I did,” you reply in a snappy sort of way. “You just forgot my name.”

“Who's he?” Jessica nods to Matt.

“Matt Murdock, lawyer,” he introduces himself.

“You're hanging out with lawyers now?” Jessica says with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do? Did you get framed for murder or something?”

“Actually no, we're here because Frank Castle disappeared and Byrne here thought you may be able to track his whereabouts even though I told her it was a stupid idea,” Matt says and you notice the obvious goading trick.

“Yeah it _was_ a stupid idea,” Jessica nods. “Follow the trail of dead bodies. There's my professional advice and I'm also billing you for the door.”

“Jessica please,” you plead, close to your breaking point. “I don't know where to start. I don't care if you only give me like a basic clue of where he might be. Just please. He's being tortured by some psychopath right now and I can't do a fucking thing about it.”

She sighs heavily before grabbing a bottle of cheap whiskey from her desk and taking a long drink from it, “Alright but only because I sorta got you into that shitty situation with Kilgrave. After this we're even.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, feeling marginally more relaxed.

“Where was he last seen?” she asks.

“Last time I saw him we were on the Weehawken Pier,” Matt explains. “I watched him go into the Lincoln tunnel.”

“And he's currently showing as being in the Hell's Kitchen area,” you add. “I've got a friend tracking his phone but the cell towers aren't giving a specific location.”

“That's a start,” Jessica nods. “And you say he's being tortured? How do you know that?”

“I got a call from the person who took him saying I had twenty four hours to find him or they'd find me,” you say.

“Wait, you didn't tell me that part!” Matt says in alarm. “They're gonna come after you?!”

“I can handle it,” you hiss, eager to get back to sharing as much info with Jessica as you can. “The guy said Frank owed him a favour which he never delivered on and talked like he knew him.”

“That's something,” Jessica says sighing. “Guess I gotta go through Castle's associates of the criminal variety.”

“I don't imagine that would be a long list,” you venture. “Frank would rather take a criminal out than make friends with them.”

“Unless he was in a desperate situation and needed their help,” Jessica points out. “You, Murdock. Weren't you actually _his_ lawyer?”

“Yeah I was,” Matt says, adjusting his glasses. “Frank definitely didn't have any criminal connections that I knew about and I went over his records extensively.”

“So this person must have come into his life between the trial and between meeting you Byrne....unless Murdock is just a shitty lawyer and missed something when doing his research.”

“Well you really know how to destroy a guy's ego,” Matt huffs and you squeeze his arm, warning him to keep his cool. You got the impression Jessica would use any excuse to kick you both out.

“Cry me a fucking river,” Jessica sneers before dragging her laptop into the centre of the desk and pushing a bunch of papers onto the floor before sitting down on a broken chair. “You guys can fuck off 'til I find something. Leave me your number, Byrne and I'll call you when something happens.”

“Thank you,” you say, pulling Matt out of her apartment.

“Yeah yeah,” comes the aggrieved sigh behind you.

“Charming woman,” Matt mutters as you walk away.

 

**  
  


Frank had to get to his phone. It was just sitting there on the damn table not ten feet from him but that shithead guard kept patrolling up and down like he owned the room.

If he could get a call out to you, maybe it would help you trace him more. He hoped you were smart enough to have Lieberman looking at all the cell towers...no, he _knew_ you would be smart enough for that. He needed to play his fucking part too.

Frank secretly bit his lip so hard it started bleeding before he audibly began wheezing like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

_Shit this is a risky gambit._

“Aw what the fuck?!” the goon says, snapping his head in Frank's direction.

Frank deliberately dry heaved, sending blood running down his chin before he faked looking like he was trying to hold it back.

“Shit,” the guy hisses, coming closer to him. “Fuck, you better not be dying on me right now or the boss will be pissed.”

The guard squats down in front of Frank, assessing the many injuries before his eyes linger on the enormous fading bruise across his torso that'd only gotten worse with the constant barrage of punches.

“You were all banged up way before we nabbed you, huh?” he says. “You can breathe right?”

Frank lets his eyes go wide and he can feel his face going red as he play acts at not being able to get enough air. More blood spills out of his mouth and he briefly burbles it for effect.

_Shit this asshole is buying it._

“Oh fuck!” the guy panics. “I gotta get the doc in here. Shit. Stay alive, Castle!”

He promptly runs out of the room.

This was Frank's chance. He stood up, still tightly bound to the chair and dashed the wood to pieces by charging into a nearby wall. It hurt like fucking shit but it meant he could get out of the ropes now.

Quickly he grabbed his cell and dialled your number.

Not one ring went by before you answered, “Frank?!”

“It's me, darlin',” Frank answers. “Listen, I ain't got much time. I'm....ah shit.”

The guard and the doctor were already back and he rapidly tossed the phone into the corner, keeping the line open.

“Oh well played,” the guy spits. “Maybe you should give up being a fucking vigilante and go into acting, Punisher. Doc, get your stuff ready.”

“Come on ya fuckin' bastard,” Frank waves him over. “See how far ya fuckin' get now I ain't strapped down.”

“As much as I'd love to show you up old man, I have my orders,” the guard smirks before turning to the doctor. “Do it.”

Frank knows what's coming so he leaps over the table and pushes it over to form a barrier, just as a syringe dart barrels towards him. In one fluid motion, he grabs the bottom two table legs and charges the two men, catching them off guard and slamming them into the wall. They crumple to the ground but Frank delivers one last blow with the table before he grabbed for his cell again, stuffing it in his pocket with the call still open.

Fuck his entire body hurt so bad but he needed to move.

He stumbled out into the corridor, the glaring whiteness of the walls making him squint but he saw them. There was already a formation of guys waiting for him.

_Shit they must have heard the commotion._

“Boss, he tried to escape!” one of them calls into another room.

“I would expect nothing less of Mr Castle,” comes the silky reply. “All of you, use your tranquillisers rather than fighting. I've seen his handiwork before and none of you will survive if you take him on directly.”

“Fuck,” Frank breathes, holding his hands out in defeat as one dart hits him square in the bicep and another catches him in the chest. “Darlin', if ya can hear me, I....”

But he never gets to finish the sentence before his legs give out and he crashes to the floor, unconsciousness taking over him.

 

 

**

 

 

Matt has his head cocked to the side as he listens in with you on the phone call whilst he has Micro on his own cell frantically trying to trace the signal.

“It's moved!” Micro announces. “It's no longer showing as Hell's Kitchen. Now it looks like it's around East Elmhurst.”

“Why the fuck has it moved?” you ask.

“They may have bounced the signal somewhere to make it look like he was closer,” Micro explains. “I'm closing in.”

That smooth deep voice comes back on Frank's line and you put your finger over Matt's lips to show him to stay quiet.

“Mrs Castle, your husband really should stop trying to escape me. The more he does, the less time I'm going to give you to find him. You now have _five_ hours for that little display.”

“Five?!” you cry. “You complete bastard!”

“Your language is unbecoming,” the voice chides. “Pray I don't dock more time from you. Now, Mrs Castle, good luck.”

The line clicks off.

“Shit, I almost had it!” you hear Micro say on the other line. “Definitely around the top of East Elmhurst. Sorry Byrne. I needed one more minute.”

“Fuck!” you shout loudly before noticing Matt wince. “Sorry, I'm just frustrated.”

“I know, Byrne, I know,” Matt says, hugging you tightly and it's taking everything you have not to start crying on the poor guy. “We'll find him. I promise you.”

“Starting to feel like this is hopeless Matt,” you murmur into his chest. “Five hours? For all I know, the location Micro got could be another cell tower reroute.”

Matt takes his glasses off and holds your cheek, “Don't you dare give up. That's not the Byrne I know. You fight like hell and you keep going. Frank calls you his warrior princess for a reason.”

“He does?” you say in bewilderment.

“Oh I've heard all the nicknames he has for you,” Matt laughs. “That's just one of the PG ones. Byrne, you can't lose hope. You heard him on the other end of that phone. He's fighting hard to get back to you, you gotta have the same respect for him.”

“You're right,” you nod. “I've gotta treat this like a job at work and just get on with it until the last second.”

“Well alright, that's better,” Matt smiles before going to replace his glasses.

“You don't need to do that around me you know,” you say. “It's nicer when I can see your expression.”

Matt hesitates a fraction before folding up his glasses and stuffing them in the top pocket of his shirt, “You are far too adorable for Frank, Byrne but anyway, if we have five hours and then they're coming for you, let's get prepared.”

Since you're back in Matt's apartment, you start loading your guns up and checking the rounds have chambered correctly. You can see it makes Matt uncomfortable and you knew all about his reticence to kill from Frank's many rants after coming home.

_Suck it up, Murdock. These guys aren't going to play nice and knocking them unconscious isn't going to stop them._

“I'm going to put my suit on,” Matt announces, going to his own trunk. “I suggest you do the same.”

“So I can look like an Avenger's reject?” you scoff.

“Byrne, if Jessica manages to find you a location we'll have to ship out immediately and you'll have no protection from bullets or knives. I know you train and I know you're good but you're not immortal. Can you just take Frank's advice and put the damn thing on?”

You feel fucking ridiculous as you peel off your clothing, not giving a shit about being subtle with it. I mean Matt had felt you with less on when you'd almost been blown up.

You slowly slip into the catsuit, noting it was _extremely_ perfect to your measurements before you zip up the front. It was warm but it wasn't going to be a sweatfest to stay in. Experimentally you went to the kitchen knife block and did a few hesitant prods at your body with one of the blades.

Ok, so you'd give Frank points here. It was going to stop you getting injured at least but your pride in this stupid thing sure was wounded.

“Are you good?” Matt asks, already dressed in his Daredevil outfit.

“I hate this so much,” you murmur.

“It's necessary, Byrne,” Matt says. “You think I like running around in this thing? I used to wear a compression shirt and a scarf but I learned quickly that Hell's Kitchen's residents don't fight honourably.”

“I get it,” you nod, braiding your hair so it was out of the way. “I just feel fucking stupid.”

“You and me both,” Matt smiles warmly, trying to lighten your mood.

The ringing phone has you diving across the kitchen island and you see an unfamiliar number calling.

“Hello?” you answer.

“It's Jessica,” that familiar drawl says. “Found something that may be of use. The lawyer was right, Frank never had any criminal associates before his trial and shortly after he escaped jail, he was declared dead, right?”

“Right?”

“If he apparently owed someone a favour, I would hazard a good guess that that favour was helping him jailbreak. He was in a maximum security facility with a lot of high end criminals.”

“There's no way you can bust out of a maximum security centre without having a few guards in your pocket,” you muse.

“Exactly, so whoever this person is sure has either a lot of money or a lot of fierce reputation. I went to the prison today and pretended to be a relative. It was pretty clear to me who was running the show backstage after about an hour.”

“Who?” you ask quickly.

“Wilson Fisk,” Jessica replies. “I may have flashed a bit of cleavage at one of the inmates and he spilled everything. Fisk arranged a meeting with Frank the first day of his incarceration.”

“Shit...” you breathe. “Thank you. Thanks for all your help. I'll make it up to you sometime.”

“No problem, just don't kick my goddamn door in again,” Jessica huffs before hanging up.

“Fisk,” Matt growls. “That son of a bitch.”

“East Elmhurst is near to Rikers Island,” you say in your train of thought. “And there's a shit ton of correctional facilities and prisons there.”

“Fisk hasn't been released as far as I know,” Matt nods. “That's it. It's gotta be. Frank's in the Rikers Island prison.”

“Come on, let's go,” you urge, pulling Matt as quickly as you can out of the door.

 

_Four hours and thirty minutes. I'm coming for you Frank._

 


	20. Silence in the Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have four hours left to get to Riker's Island Prison and save Frank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! This was a looooong chapter and I basically had to cut it off somewhere otherwise it would've gone on for about 15,000 words or so.
> 
> This is the penultimate chapter of this mini story arc.
> 
> Warnings: Gore, violence
> 
> Any private comments/messages/prompts/one-shot ideas my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com and my tumblr is theliveshipparagon . I do respond to some requests as some of you may have seen my Silence at Josie's one shot pop up :)
> 
> I'm still blown away by the response to this saga and I love reading your comments <3
> 
> \- TLP xx
> 
> (Standard I suck at proofreading disclaimer)

Four hours left to save Frank...and yourself.

After realising charging out of the door without a plan wasn't the greatest idea, you re-entered Matt's apartment.

You spent unnecessary time trying to cobble together a usable idea to no avail. When poor Matt had suggested you put your cop uniform on, you practically bit his head off.

“That's a stupid fucking plan,” you hiss.

“Well sorry,” Matt huffs. “Just thought it might be easier to get into the prison if you look like you're meant to be there.”

“How about you put your lawyer stuff on over your Daredevil suit, I'll grab some business clothes from home and I can pretend I'm your assistant?” you suggest hurriedly. Time was not on your side here.

“I can't just waltz in without a reason, Byrne,” Matt chides. “I need someone to purposefully see.”

“None of your clients are in Riker's Island? No relatives or appeal cases?” you ask.

“Byrne, the only appeal case that Nelson and Murdock could possibly take is John Beringer and he's-”

“Well fuck that idea then,” you finish. You'd arrested John Beringer personally for leading a sex trafficking ring with underage girls. No way were you giving that shitbag a second chance at freedom.

“Reconsider the cop idea. Please,” Matt pleads.

“If I go in with my uniform and, by some miracle, manage to get out again, everyone is gonna know Frank is married to a cop. It won't be hard to find me after that. I'd have to quit my job and move, Matt.”

You don't think you'd ever seen Matt this frustrated.

“Shit,” he hisses. “You're right. God I didn't even think about that.”

“Look, put your lawyer stuff on just in case and I'll pack the business outfit. Worst comes to worst, I'll fucking break in somehow,” you muse.

“You can't just break into a super-max!” Matt says in alarm. “They'll shoot you on sight! You'll get one step in the door and-”

“Matthew!” you yell to which he finally shuts up. “Frank is in danger. I couldn't give a fuck if they shoot at me. I'm saving him.”

“You're just as insane as he is,” Matt mutters before he sighs. “You're going to get me killed doing this. I can just see it now.”

“Well you can say I told you so from the afterlife,” you laugh but the sound is hollow.

The man moves with the most rushed grace you'd ever seen as he threw on a shirt, tie and formal pants, slinging his suit jacket over his arm.

“Let's go,” he says, holding out his hand to you.

 

**

 

“Fuck,” Frank wheezes as he receives another harsh blow to the abdomen.

“Three hours and thirty minutes, Mr Castle,” Fisk chuckles as he circles Frank who's strapped down to a metal chair. “I wonder if your lovely wife has worked it out yet.”

“Fuckin' count on it,” Frank growls. “My girl is fuckin' smart, Fisk.”

“Is she now? Apparently not smart enough to not get involved with a man such as yourself,” Fisk smirks.

Frank just laughs, almost bellowing, “I ain't scared a nothin', Fisk. Nothin' but fuck am I scared of her sometimes and so should you be. I ain't never seen her lose it completely. I seen her shoot a guy, I seen her punch another guy's face in but she ain't ever fully let loose, ya know what I'm sayin'?”

“I think I can handle one insignificant woman, Mr Castle,” Fisk says, standing with his legs spread apart and his hands behind his back. “You of all people should know what I'm capable of.”

“Yeah but I don't know what _she's_ capable of,” Frank says darkly. “You're fuckin' with her man here.”

Fisk just rolls his eyes, “Are you seriously suggesting your wife is somehow more of a threat than you are? Somehow I doubt that very much.”

“When she comes, and oh she's comin', and she fuckin' takes out everythin' you've built in this place, remember Fisk, remember I fuckin' warned ya,” Frank spits.

“That is quite enough from you,” Fisk says, delivering a punch that rocks Frank's teeth in his jaw. “Your single minded conversation bores me and it appears you're trying to convince _yourself_ that she will be coming, not me. Enjoy your last hours, Mr Castle.”

With that, he strides out and two guys re-enter the room to stare at Frank.

“Fuck you,” he growls at both of them, although a fucking lot of good that did.

He sighed. Fisk was right. He _was_ trying to convince himself you were on the way. Usually he would've told you to stay a million miles away from the situation, that he'd rather die than put you in danger but Fisk had threatened to come after you and he had no choice but to silently hope you'd reach this lion's den.

Strangely once Frank had accepted you'd have to come after him, he'd been thinking about how much he really wanted to get out of this alive. The past few days with you had been so fucking peaceful, so blessedly normal. He didn't want to lose that. He couldn't bear the thought of it all being ripped away from him again.

_And what if he fuckin' kills me and lets her live?_

Frank knew exactly what would happen if that scenario played out. You'd become _him_. He knew that capability for darkness and revenge was in you and if you'd managed to find out what was in the kidnap trunk, he'd just willingly given you the tools to become The Punisher 2.0.

_Don't ya dare let time run out, darlin'. Don't ya fuckin' dare. You ain't becomin' me and I ain't losin' ya. Don't ya fuckin' dare._

 

**

 

You were on the bridge connecting the mainland to Riker's Island and you were almost in a rage. You swear you'd hit every red fucking light on the way and rush hour too.

_Fuck New York traffic._

“How long now?” you ask Matt, impatiently drumming your fingers on the steering wheel.

“One and a half hours give or take,” he informs you.

“Ok, plenty of time, we can do this,” you mutter, more to yourself than him.

“Byrne, calm down,” Matt says soothingly, rubbing your shoulder. “If you're too tense they'll spot us a mile off.”

“I'm trying, I'm...fuck,” you say, your voice cracking slightly and you bite back the tears forming in your eyes. “I don't know if I can do this, Matt.”

“You can, I know you can,” Matt says firmly. “Don't start doubting yourself now. Frank needs you.”

The prospect of a full scale gunfight became ever more real once you touched down on the other side of the bridge and passed under an archway signifying the prison complex. Shit, this was really happening. You were going to have to trust in every single bit of training the cops and Frank had ever given you.

_You're just going to get yourself killed in five minutes flat._

Your brain was not being particularly helpful right now and it was making you more anxious. You didn't even have the security of the dozens of guns Frank had left you because you were definitely going to have to walk through a metal detector to get in the place. The best you could do is hide a stiletto knife in one of Matt's old hollowed out thicker set canes and two tiny pistols in the soles of your chunky heeled steel capped boots.

_I can't believe I'm stealing ideas from the fucking criminals I arrest._

You drive up to the main gate and Matt hands his professional ID over to the guard.

“Who's she?” the guy asks, pointing at you.

“My assistant and my driver,” Matt says before touching his glasses. “Can't exactly go driving myself now, can I?”

“Oh!” the guard blusters, not wishing to seem rude. “Of course, go on ahead.”

Matt's blindness sure was useful sometimes.

You were now in the main car park and you took Matt's arm, guiding him towards the entrance whilst trying to plaster a calm and friendly expression on your face. Once there, you almost froze up as you saw the large metal detectors and the conveyor belts next to them, beeping benignly. A gentle squeeze on your hand snapped you out of it though.

“It's fine, Byrne,” Matt whispers. “Fake the confidence and it will come.”

He starts leading you forward until he can sense the guard standing there and he holds his cane out.

“I think this is just gonna set this thing off,” he smiles, turning on that charming grin to the maximum. “Do I put it on the belt or shall I give it to you?”

“I'll take that, sir,” the guard says. “I will need you to remove your glasses though and put them on the conveyor.”

“Byrne, sweetheart, can you help me?” Matt says innocently.

“Of course, Mr Murdock!” you say with artificial enthusiasm, taking his glasses from him and folding them up neatly to pass through the x-ray machine.

You turn around to see the guard staring with morbid fascination at Matt's sightless eyes, almost like he hadn't expected him to actually be blind.

“Fucking rude staring asshole,” you murmur and Matt gives you the tiniest smirk, letting you know he'd heard you.

“Ok sir, if you'd like to step forward about five paces?” the guard asks.

Matt does so and the guard walks around to hand him the cane. Step one at least. The knife was through. You'd have a weapon to defend yourself with.

Now comes the hard part.

“And miss? If you'd like to go next?” the guard waves you through.

You look as impassive as you can as you stride forward. The shrill dinny of the alarm shrieks out.

Shit.

“Anything metallic on you, miss?” the guy asks.

“I don't have any jewellery other than my rings?” you say in your best confused tone.

The guard looks you up and down and you try not to look nervous. Finally his eyes settle on your shoes.

“Oh man, I had a pair like that when I was in high school,” he laughs. “That'll be what's setting it off. Can you remove your shoes please?”

You shuck out of them and you're praying to whatever god is listening that he won't put them on the conveyor.

“I feel really small now,” you giggle before walking back through the detector which stays quiet.

“Alright, seems we're all good here,” the guard smiles, handing you the boots around the detector. “Main check in is down the hall and to the left.”

“Thank you so much!” you say, cheerily. “You've been really helpful! Come on, Mr Murdock.”

You put the shoes back on before leading Matt down the corridor.

That went better than expected. You now had one knife and two guns. Better than a kick in the fucking teeth right?

“Now comes my Oscar moment,” Matt murmurs to you. “Remember the plan?”

This was the worst fucking plan you'd ever been a part of. You'd had to concede to Matt setting up a meeting with John Beringer on the pretext of an appeal but Matt was supposed to rile him up to the point where he'd start losing it and lash out. That'd be your chance to slip out and get down to the prison interior. The main thing was for Beringer to not see you whilst this was going on since he knew your face. You'd have to be flirting with a guard somewhere outside and somehow pickpocket his keys.

“Yeah I remember,” you say. “I'm scared, Matt.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he says softly, pulling you into a quick hug in the corridor. “Bet you wish you'd picked me over Frank now, huh?” You can feel his smirk as he says it.

“Zip it, Murdock,” you snort, some of the tension releasing. “You wouldn't have the stones to fuck in a library.”

“Oh yeah?” Matt says amused. “I'm not a choir boy you know, Byrne. I bet you'd be surprised.”

“I probably would,” you agree. “Ok, let's do this.”

You reached the check in desk and Matt makes a great display of reaching for his papers before mock berating you for 'leaving them behind'. He fakes being angry with you and tells you to wait outside and that you'll never be a legal advocate with that kind of poor organisation. A guard eventually brings him through to the meeting room.

“Shit, your boss is an asshole,” the receptionist says, looking at your stricken expression that you're play acting with.

“Oh my god, right?!” you nod. “This is my second week and he throws so much at me, I can't remember it all!”

“Legal work is tough,” the girl nods.

“Am I ok to stay out here?” you ask innocently enough. “If I make another mistake in there I'm gonna get fired.”

“Sure, sweetie,” the receptionist smiles.

“Hey, you can keep me company,” a youngish guard winks at you in a lascivious way.

“Lonnie keep your hands visible,” the girl growls. “I know what you're like.”

“I'm just naturally friendly babe,” Lonnie laughs. “So...got a name, little Miss NY legal?”

“Jessica,” is the first name that pops into your head.

“Nice to meet you Jessica, nice to meet you indeed,” Lonnie purrs.

_This is going to be so much easier than I thought to distract this guy._

“Likewise,” you smile.

“Mind if I call you Jess?” Lonnie says.

“Call me whatever you like if you'll buy a girl a drink,” you giggle.

“Ooo, I like you Jess. Straight to the fucking point. Alright, drinks sometime, yeah?” he smiles widely, raking his eyes down your business suit. “Kinda curious to know what's under the uniform.”

_You have no fucking idea._

“Oh?” you flutter your eyelashes, coming a little closer. “See, and here was me thinking how much I'm curious to see you keep yours _on_.”

The guy practically melts and you're sure he's not used to having a girl actually flirt back. His posture becomes infinitely more confident and he reaches forward to take a lock of your hair before letting it slip through his fingers.

“You like a guy in uniform, Jess?”

“Sure do,” you smile. “Something about it is just so...powerful, you know?”

“Oh I do babe, I really do,” Lonnie says. “I'd love to show you sometime.”

“It's a date,” you purr, tugging him close by his waistband so he's almost flush against you.

Lonnie doesn't get a chance to take advantage of the position because all hell breaks loose in the meeting room and you hear the sounds of fighting.

_About goddamn time, Matt!_

“What in the shit?!” Lonnie cries, pulling away from you rapidly and you deftly unclip his keys before stashing them in your jacket pocket. “Lock the goddamn room down!”

He dashes off and even the receptionist runs behind the guard to see what's going on. You can vaguely make out Matt struggling with Beringer over the table, his glasses askew.

_Not the time to stare. You don't have long._

As quietly as you can, you dash around the corner towards the cell block entrance and jam the keys in the lock, turning it and slipping through. You made it in but you'd still have to dodge past several guards and some inmates themselves.

_God I hope to fuck none of the shitbags I've arrested are close by._

Now you bend down, ripping the soles of your boots off and stuff the two pistols into your jacket. A sudden realisation hits. You'd left the cane with Matt. You cursed yourself for making such a rookie error. How the fuck could you do that when Frank's life was on the line?!

_Concentrate. You're in. Find Frank. That's all that matters._

You sneak through three gates before you have to duck behind a wall as guards come running by, their walkies squeaking with news about Beringer going nuts. How they didn't see you is beyond a miracle. You stand out a fucking mile away in your dark suit against the stark white walls. You weren't going to question it though.

Two more gates in and you're sure you're deep inside the complex now. You hear no alarms but that just produces a sinking feeling in your stomach. No alarms meant no lockdown which meant all the prisoners were loose right now.

“Mmm babygirl you are so lost right now, huh?” a thickly Southern accent says from behind you and you whirl around to see an inmate leaning against the opposite wall and openly leering. “What's a guy gonna do when he sees a pretty little peach like you all ripe for plucking?”

You couldn't let this asshole rattle your cage. If you showed him one iota of fear he'd been on you in seconds and your silent cover would be blown.

“A guy's gonna take me to Wilson Fisk because he's expecting me,” you try, crossing your arms like you're annoyed at the intrusion.

“Aww shit,” the guy says, his eyes going wide. “Listen, I never hit on you, ok? Fisk doesn't like anyone fucking with his shit. Come on, I'll take you to him. I'm sure he'll gimme a reward right?”

The fact this guy had assumed you were Fisk's property made you unbelievably angry but you kept your temper in check as you fell in line behind him.

The eyes of other inmates were glued to you as you walked on. You kept your head high and your stride confident. Fuck these guys. They weren't going to psych you out.

“Hey, fucking move along!” your guide yells to his fellow prisoners. “This one's for the Kingpin!”

Kingpin?! Just how much of this prison had Fisk taken over?!

Choruses of “Hey sweetheart!”, “Look at the ass on that!” and “Oh man Fisk gets all the hot ones!” ring out. It is seriously taking every nerve you have to keep yourself calm.

“Stay there, babygirl,” you guide winks before disappearing into a side room.

You feign being bored and disinterested just so you don't have to look at the slight crowd that's gathered behind you. Shit, I mean, here was a group of men who probably hadn't seen a woman in years and you were just parading yourself around like a box of pastries. That would make any girl terrified.

Your guy comes back, “He's happy you arrived and he'll see you now.”

You're waved into a large room that you assume is the recreation area for those not worthy to be outside. In the centre is a large desk which a tall and stocky man is sat on, regarding you with curious eyes whilst two heavily muscled prisoners stand at the back.

Fisk.

“You are Mrs Castle, I assume. Welcome,” he says cordially, nodding slightly.

_A psychopath with manners, well I fucking never._

“That's me. You're Fisk, I assume,” you counter, folding your arms in a show of defiance.

“Come now, my dear, you can call me Wilson,” he smiles at you. “Do sit. I would like to speak with you about this predicament.”

You could remain standing but that would probably just piss him off and now was not the time to show your hand. You still had no idea where Frank was.

You sit down, brushing your trousers off in a nonchalant manner before crossing your legs and resting your hands upon your knees. Matt had told you a lot about this man before you got here and you knew he responded better to civility and sophistication.

_Time to break out the big words and the politeness._

“So how are we going to move forward, Wilson?” you ask, not taking your eyes off of him for one second as he moves to sit on the opposite side of the desk.

Fisk just regards you, no, he _studies_ you. You get the distinct impression he's cataloguing everything about your features and your demeanour.

“You had roughly forty minutes left,” he muses. “I'm impressed, Mrs Castle...or can I call you Byrne?”

You nod but you don't say anything.

“So, Byrne, now I have my answer,” he sighs peacefully. “I was ever so curious to know what the wife of The Punisher was like. Would you be a violent woman? Crass? Crude? Would you be this little meek girl who'd be terrified and run to the authorities? Would you even make an effort knowing he was in an impossible situation?”

“He's my husband,” you say firmly. “And I want him back.”

“I understand,” Fisk nods graciously, placing his hand over his chest. “I must say, Byrne, I am very _very_ impressed. Not only did you figure out where he was but you made it in here without alerting the authorities. I can see you are a woman of substance, of strength. Clearly Mr Castle is much luckier than he lets on.”

“Tell me precisely why he's in here,” you demand, keen to stop Fisk's rambling monologue.

“Ah, now that is a tale,” Fisk chuckles to himself. “See, I helped Frank get out of this place after his trial and I expected him to comply with a favour I asked right before he left. He has clearly not done so, thus I am revoking my own favour.”

“Then you didn't know Frank,” you say bluntly. “He doesn't help those he feels deserve punishment.”

“That is his own egregious error to make,” Fisk says sharply. “He can only blame himself for putting you in danger.”

“So what now?” you ask, staring him straight in the eyes, refusing to back down. “I made it here in time.”

“Oh, Mrs Castle, are you business woman in your daily life?” Fisk laughs. “You do have that fire and that vim to be one...and that straight to brass tacks attitude.”

“I like to know where I stand,” you counter.

Fisk turns to one of the meathead inmates and makes a motion for them to leave to which they comply instantly. You both wait there in silence for a time before you hear something being dragged down the corridor and you almost shout upon seeing Frank being unceremoniously hoisted into the room.

He looks fucking terrible. You thought he was bad that night you caught him leaning over the coffee table but shit...his bruises had bruises of their own. He was so badly beaten that you wondered just how many weeks it would take before you even started seeing a normal skin colour again. He couldn't even lift his head to look at you because of the immense pain he seemed to be in.

“There is your husband,” Fisk announces, gesturing behind him.

“Byrne?” Frank calls weakly. “Byrne is that you?”

“I'm here, Frank,” you say, putting all the strength you can into the sentence. You needed to be the strong one here. You needed to let him know you were going to get him out of this.

“Aww shit, darlin',” Frank groans through his agony. “Ya actually came.”

“Of course I did,” you say fondly. “Kind of offended you thought I wouldn't to be honest.”

Frank gruffly laughs before his injuries stop him from making much more sound, “Ain't the time to be naggin' me, girl.”

“Well,” Fisk says in obvious rapture. “The great Frank Castle, The Punisher, the man who killed an entire cell block and look at you. You're in love.”

“It ain't a fuckin' weakness,” Frank hisses.

“Isn't it?” Fisk raises an eyebrow before he grabs you unexpectedly, dragging you over the desk and holding a makeshift shiv to your throat. “So me threatening your wife doesn't make you want to give into any demand I make? You wouldn't consider your love for her a weakness in this instance?”

“You ain't gonna fuckin' touch her,” Frank snarls, straining against the two heavies who have his arms locked behind his head.

“I believe I already am,” Fisk chuckles.

In one swift motion you grab Fisk's wrist and twist it, ducking under his arm and driving your knee into his stomach. He doesn't drop the shiv and he doesn't even seem terribly winded but you're free of his grip and you back away.

“That was...unforeseen,” Fisk growls and his face has completely dropped from his faux charming demeanour to an almost primal rage. “Very good, Byrne. Very good. Shame your rude manners is going to get you both killed now.”

“I'm rude?!” you shout. “You're the one who held a knife to my throat! I'd say I was justified!”

“Semantics,” Fisk dismisses. “I was going to be lenient, you know. I was going to ask you to carry out the favour that Frank never did and then I would've freed him.”

“Liar,” you hiss. “You never had any intention of that. This was just a cheap revenge ploy.”

Fisk's nostrils flare and you knew he was going to lose it soon. You could see the veins coiling in his neck as he tried to keep his anger level.

“I think Mr Castle needs a retread of earlier,” he says coldly to the two heavies.

They immediately start punching and kicking at Frank and without much second thought, you draw one of the pistols out of your pocket and fire two rounds straight at them. Two headshots. Both guys dropped like stones to the floor around a very shocked marine.

_Thank fuck you insisted on a refresher gun course Frank._

Just three bullets left in the chamber now.

“How did you get firearms into my prison?!” Fisk bellows at you as you point the barrel straight at him.

“I have my ways,” you say cryptically. “Frank, can you move?”

“Just about,” comes the rough reply.

“We're getting out of here,” you declare.

“Oh I think not,” Fisk snarls before lunging at you.

He only manages to get two steps in before Frank springs up from the floor and tackles him into the far wall, making him drop the shiv in the process. Fisk's fists rain down brutal blows on Frank's back but he doesn't loosen his hold on the man.

You see the original bodyguards in the room start barrelling towards the fighting men and you fire two more shots, taking them out.

Chaos erupts in the corridor as inmates are screaming about gunfire and getting excited. You knew it was only a matter of time before they figured out where the sound came from and descended upon you.

_One bullet left and five in the other pistol. Is that enough?_

“Fuck you, ya stupid fuckin' fuck!” Frank roars, bashing Fisk's head against the stonework to daze him.

“Frank! We gotta go!” you yell to him but your guide from earlier rushes into the room.

“What the fuck?!” he cries.

“Kill her!” Fisk barks, struggling with Frank to stop him from strangling him.

“Sorry babygirl,” the guy shrugs. “Boss' orders.”

Fuck this guy is quick! You manage to get one bullet fired which wings him in the shoulder but he runs at you like a professional athlete and you don't have time to dig out the other pistol.

He collides with you, sending you crashing to the floor with him on top and you jab upwards into his windpipe causing him to squeal and cough. Using your thighs, you buck him off you and scramble towards the dropped shiv, your fingers closing over it just as his close over your ankles, dragging you back.

“Fucking bitch!” he hisses, twisting you over and backhanding you viciously.

You can feel the copper tang in your mouth and you use it to build up your anger, slicing the shiv across his throat. The blood exits his neck in spurts which splatter your face and torso and you have to shut your eyes to keep them clear as you push him off you.

Shit. You'd never killed anyone like this. Not this up close and personal. Not with an improvised knife.

_It was him or me._

You were sure this was going to be yet another psychological scar you'd have to deal with at some point but right now there were more important things going on. Your morality could take a back seat for the time being.

Frank's body skidding across the floor shakes you back to your senses and you rush over to help him back up.

“Byrne, get out!” Frank urges.

“Not without you, you fucking moron,” you snarl, hoisting him up.

A huge hand clamps down on your shoulder, tearing you away from Frank and another hand roughly wraps around your throat, dangling you in the air. Through your blood soaked face you can see Fisk breathing hard, complete madness in his eyes.

“Definitely a woman of strength,” he rasps. “Though not as vicious as Mr Castle would have me believe.”

You lock your legs around the arm holding you up and violently twist your body around before kicking Fisk straight in the face. He drops you in surprise and you launch yourself at him, fists bared and go straight for the solar plexus. You connect and he staggers backwards so you uppercut him, aiming directly at his nose which bursts, blood dribbling down his mouth.

Your victory is short lived as he reaches inside his prison jumpsuit and produces an actual knife. A filleting knife.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” he says softly although his stance tells a different story. “Perhaps I need to show you your place, Mrs Castle.”

The speed at which he stabs out with the knife belies his huge size and you barely dodge it.

“Byrne!” Frank shouts in alarm, struggling to get back up. “Fuckin' run!”

But you couldn't. The slices and the jabs were too fast for you to turn around and book it out of there.

_I am vastly fucking outmatched._

Your hand goes for your pocket but Fisk instantly knows what you're trying to do and slices the business jacket so the gun clatters to the floor.

“I don't think so, Mrs Castle,” he smirks before he changes his stance and the next thing you know the knife was jammed into your torso.

“NO!” Frank screams.

There was no pain however. The suit Frank had had made for you had stopped the blade.

_Thank fuck it actually worked!_

“Try again,” you hiss, shooting your palm into his jaw so his head rocks back and he stumbles backwards, enraged.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he bellows before attacking you in a frenzy, shredding your clothes to ribbons until they hang loosely off you.

“Good girl,” you hear Frank mutter, finally managing to stand. “Ya fuckin' listened ta me for once n' wore it.”

You tear the remainder of the fabric off until you're stood there in the suit and your heavy boots.

“Very clever,” Fisk spits. “I see I underestimated you.”

“Told ya ya would,” Frank growls.

“But you have no such suit, Mr Castle,” Fisk says before lunging towards him.

That gives you ample opportunity to grab your pistol and you fire all five shots into Fisk's back in a blind panic. The blood starts seeping through the white jumpsuit, staining as it drips. Fisk staggers forward two paces before falling to his knees.

You don't think any of them are kill shots but they're enough to slow him down.

You run forward, grabbing Frank and putting his arm around your shoulders for support as you make your way out of the room.

“Pleasure meeting you,” you hiss to the shocked Fisk on the floor who was breathing is short gasps with wide eyes.

“Darlin',” Frank mumbles, finding his feet. “Shit, I ain't makin' it outta here.”

“Yes you are,” you assure him. “I didn't fucking trick my way in here and flirt with some sexpest guard just for you to give up.”

“Ya fuckin' did what?!” Frank says in alarm, becoming a little more alive.

“I had to get the keys somehow,” you huff.

For some reason that seemed to ignite a fire in him more than the simple will to get out of this place because he started walking a little more assuredly now.

“We get outta here, ya fuckin' point him out,” Frank says dangerously.

“Not the time to be getting possessive,” you remind him before you round the corner to see...

Oh...

A wall of prisoners who looked mighty interested as to why sounds of fighting had been going on.

“It's a real shame, baby,” one grizzled guy called to you. “You looked so pretty before you got yourself all banged up there.”

You saw red.

You'd had enough of lascivious comments and enough of this fucking place.

“What makes you think this is my blood?” you say calmly.

“Stop tryna be brave, sweetcheeks,” the guy laughs.

“Do you see any fucking injuries on me?” you challenge.

Well the guy pales a little at that before he turns to his fellow inmates, “I think this little girl needs a lesson taught, huh? Real fucking smart mouth there. We got a much better use for that.”

“You're all fuckin' dead,” Frank growls from next to you. “Fuckin' dead men walkin'.”

The men descended on you and you lashed out, completely uncaring about pulling your punches. It was almost like you went to this deep primal place where only the fight mattered.

_This must be how Frank feels._

Ever blow you landed, every kick, it was all in aid of life or death. Frank had managed to grab a shank from somebody and was stabbing as many guys as he could. It was fucking gruesome but you needed to switch that part of yourself off that felt the revulsion.

_Become like Frank. Fight for your life. Be ruthless._

You grab a plastic spoon someone had left in a pudding pot and snap it before jamming it in the eye of a man who was crushing you against the bars of the cell block gate. You didn't stop when the soft orb popped open like a grape and you kept pushing and pushing further until it lodged into his brain.

This scared you how fucking easily you were getting used to it.

You had no hesitation in jumping at the next guy, catching his face with your knee so he fell over and you were on him, landing punch after punch until he fell unconscious. You didn't have time to get off him before another man ran straight at you with a broken broomstick and you pulled the guy you'd just beaten senseless up like a human shield.

The impact was sickening to hear but you sprang up, yanking the stick from him, only to whirl it around and crack him across the temple. The guy drops and you make sure he doesn't get up again.

“Byrne!” Frank calls for you and you see him stood amidst a pile of bodies, panting heavily.

“That's the last of them,” you say. “Let's get the fuck out.”

Frank limps over and you resume your position of propping him up whilst he walks. You make it through four gates unhindered before a guard spots you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he yells, going to grab his walkie.

_This is it. It's over. We'll be put on trial for murder._

He never gets to make the call though as a flash of burgundy rushes out of nowhere, slamming him into the gate and knocking him out.

“About time, Red,” Frank croaks.

“My god, what happened to you?” Matt says in alarm. “You smell like blood and infection.”

“Nice ta see ya too,” Frank mumbles.

“Is there a way out?” you ask quickly. “No way we're getting out the front entrance looking like this.”

“There's a staff door,” Matt nods. “Frank, put the guard's clothes on. Byrne, have you still got-”

“It's long been shredded,” you explain. “I'm in the undersuit and I'm covered in blood.”

“Did you...did you kill people?” Matt asks quietly.

“A' course she fuckin' killed people,” Frank hisses. “They were tryna kill her. What did ya want her ta do, huh? Politely fuckin' ask them ta stop?”

“Alright, you made your point,” Matt says grimly. “We'll just have to improvise. Come on.”

You dress Frank as gingerly as you can in the guard uniform, making sure not to transfer any blood onto it. He's in a lot of pain but he grits it back.

“I'll knock out those in the guard room and see if they've got something that can cover the two of you better,” Matt announces as he darts on ahead, leaving you to hoist Frank back over your shoulders and help him down the corridor.

The sound of cries echoes down the hallway until an eerie silence follows straight after. Once you finally reach the room where it's coming from, you can see a lot of unconscious guards.

“Shit, Matt,” you say in surprise. “Good going.”

“I don't like doing this to innocent people,” Matt says, his mouth in a hard line.

“They're not innocent,” you say harshly and that earns a head raise from the lawyer. “They were all being paid off by Fisk to sit back and let him run the show. They're corrupt. Fuck knows what they were letting him do in here.”

Matt lets out a long sigh, “That's nice of you to try and make me feel better about it but-”

“But nothing,” you interrupt. “They're calling him Kingpin in there. Believe me...or don't...whatever, but none of the people in this place are clean.”

“Alright,” Matt nods, hearing the conviction in your voice.

“So ya listen ta her and not me, huh?” Frank says with a raised eyebrow.

“She's better looking,” Matt snorts. “Just find something to cover your faces with.”

You spot a motorcycle helmet which you'll happily use for yourself and a large brimmed guard hat you can put on Frank. You throw it over to him and he gives you a bemused expression before jamming it onto his head.

“This ain't no kinky shit, right?” he attempts to grin. “I know some girls like uniforms n' all.”

“Could you be overtly flirtatious when I'm not listening?” Matt chides. “Time to go guys.”

With that, you pulled the motorcycle helmet over your head just as the alarms started blaring.

 

**

 

Fuck, they must have found the bodies...or the guard.

Frank straightened himself up a bit despite the incredibly deep ache in his core. Shit, he'd really need to be on bed rest for weeks after this...assuming you all got out, of course.

He was happy you had something to hide your face with at least. Frank didn't give much of a shit if someone recognised _him_ but he didn't want to ruin your life again by having your face splashed all over the news.

“Come on,” Matt said, getting antsy.

On reflex you came over and helped him walk. Frank felt like such a fucking piece of shit that he couldn't move without your help too well. You didn't need to be babying him, you needed to be alert.

He'd been watching you as you fought and he honestly couldn't be prouder of you. You'd taken everything that he'd taught you and actually used it. But....the one thing that worried him was the look in your eye as you'd speared the last inmate with the broomstick. He knew that look all too well. You enjoyed the rush and that would have to be a conversation that was necessary when you got back home.

_No fuckin' way you're turnin' into me, girl. Ya ain't a monster like I am. You're my apple pie girl who takes no shit._

“Jesus Castle, you're going on a diet,” you huffed as you both were nearly at the exit.

“That ain't very nice, darlin',” Frank laughed. “Your fuckin' fault for bakin' so much.”

“Then don't eat the stuff I make,” you shot back.

“The world will fuckin' end before I don't eat ya food, Byrne,” Frank snorted. “Especially the cupcakes.”

“Big ass fucking marine with your pansy ass little cupcakes,” you muttered, just barely loud enough for him to hear. “So macho.”

Despite the situation, despite the fact Frank hurt more than he could remember in recent months, he straightened up and grabbed under your chin in his hand, forcing your gaze to his.

“Think I ain't gonna show ya how macho I am after that comment, girl?” he growled. “I don't give a shit how injured I am. You ain't gonna run rough over me with that smart mouth.”

You visibly swallowed. Frank could see it just underneath the helmet. That was the reaction he was looking for and a proud smirk settled on his face.

“God you two,” Matt sighed ahead before he flung open the staff door. “It's a wonder you get anything done. Hurry up will you?”

“Take Frank,” you said which surprised everyone. “I have something I need to do first.”

“Tha fuck you doin' now?” Frank asked in alarm.

“CCTV you idiot,” you said simply. “I'm gonna wipe the entire system and fry the cameras.”

“Byrne you're not goin' back in there,” Frank growled. “Fuckin' forget the damn cameras.”

You shoved him forward a lot harder than Frank would've given you credit for and he stumbled, Matt catching him at the last second before you disappeared back into the prison.

“Lemme go, Red,” Frank hissed, trying to extract himself from Matt's arms.

“You're in no position to go after her Frank,” Matt said gently. “Just let her do it. She got this far, just trust her.”

“Are ya fuckin' nuts?!” Frank cried. “That's my girl in there with fuck knows how many inmates still left plus the guards!”

“Trust her,” Matt said more firmly, not letting Frank go. “This is the woman who devised a plan to enter a Super-Max and managed to get weapons inside before somehow managing to reach you. Trust her.”

Frank stopped struggling. It really was fruitless to try and reason with Matt...that and his whole body fucking hurt so badly. He supposed he would be a liability but he still hated the thought of you being in there alone with no back up.

“Go help her,” he said to Matt. “I promise I'll stay outside but please, Red, just make sure my girl is ok.”

Matt's face may be hidden behind his Daredevil mask but Frank could see the cogs turning all the same.

“Alright, but get us your car so we can make a quick escape,” Matt nods before propping Frank up to his feet and running back into the building.

Immediately Frank limped over to his vehicle after he found it in the parking lot and cursed a whole bunch when he realised he didn't have any keys for it. He jimmied the car door open before pawing at the dashboard. It finally popped open after a while and he started playing with the wiring.

_At least the Marines taught me something useful._

After a few tries of sparking connections together, the engine roared into life and he swung the car around and to the staff exit. He was ready.

_Fuckin' come on...come on...._

The wait was killing him. He grew more and more anxious as the seconds ticked by. Would you be coming out soon? Would you be coming out at all? Fuck, this was all his fault...If he had just been more aware, if he had just done what Fisk asked then none of this would have happened.

But then again, he hadn't betted on falling in love and getting married. He couldn't of known ignoring Fisk's request would have consequences that'd mean he almost lost you...maybe he still _would_ lose you.

_Fuckin' come out!_

More minutes went by and Frank was almost getting out of the car to see what was going on when he spotted you carrying Matt over your shoulders and running out.

Shit.

You rushed over, bundling Matt into the back seat before jumping in yourself and slamming the door closed.

“Fucking go!” you yelled, turning to the exit in nervousness.

Frank stamped his foot on the gas and the car sped down the lot and through the barrier before the guard even had a chance to process what was going on. He didn't stop the extreme speed until you were well over the bridge and back on the mainland and then he slowed down, eager not to attract the attention of cops.

He took one look at you in the rear view mirror and saw more blood on you.

“What happened?” he asked grimly.

“I wiped the footage, fritzed the cameras and some inmates found us,” you said quietly. “We didn't lock any of the gates behind us from the cell block so they got out. Matt almost got stabbed in the neck but I saved him. He got knocked out after that.”

“And the inmates?” Frank prompted, dreading the answer.

“Dead,” you said abruptly before turning your head so it appeared you were looking out of the window. Frank couldn't really tell too much with the helmet on.

It was clear you were disturbed by what had happened though and that was good. That meant you still cared about the value of human life no matter how much of a shitbag a person was.

“We need to ditch this fuckin' car,” Frank said, thinking logically.

“How are we gonna do that and get back home?” you asked. “We're not exactly inconspicuous.”

“Red is the only one lookin' normal once he gets outta his suit. We send him ta get new clothes for us.”

“Frank, he's fucking blind,” you hissed. “He's not gonna know a thrift store from a make up boutique.”

“That ain't fair on him, darlin',” Frank smiled slightly. “I'm sure he can smell the difference.”

“You know what I mean,” you huffed, leaning back into the seat and bouncing your leg up and down.

You were agitated. That was clear. Frank knew better than to push your buttons right now. He may be big and tough but goddamn did you get fiery sometimes.

“Fine, 'aight, I'll go,” Frank conceded.

“You look like shit though,” you said bluntly.

“And I love ya too,” Frank said sarcastically. “Ya got a better plan, girl?”

“Not one you're gonna like,” you admitted.

Frank's hands tightened on the steering wheel. Shit. This wasn't going to be good.

“Go on,” he said warily.

“There's a chop shop operating out of the Upper East Side. We go there, get them to scrap the car for parts, get new clothes and book it outta there.”

“I ain't dealing with fuckin' criminals,” Frank growled. “No fuckin' way.”

“Unless you got something better Frank, that's all she wrote,” you said and Frank noticed you slumped a lot after saying that.

_Shit, she's tired. I gotta get her ta fuckin' safety....even if it does mean dealing with scumbags._

“Byrne,” Frank calls but you don't answer. “Darlin'?”

“Hmm?” you murmured and Frank knew you were reaching your limit.

The adrenalin rush of fighting only keeps you alert for so long and it was a skill to learn to push past the crash. You hadn't had time to learn that.

“The chop shop. Where is it exactly?”

“Off York Avenue and 81st Street,” you answered, a little dazed. “Underground parking lot.”

“Get some rest,” Frank told you. “I'll get us there.”

You apparently didn't need any further instruction because you went terrifyingly limp in your seat.

_Fuck, I really need to get her home right now. Hang on for me, girl._

 

_**_

 

One second you were arguing with Frank and the next you woke up as he was pulling into an underground lot.

Shit you must have been exhausted.

You tried not to dwell on the reasons why because you were sure you'd breakdown if you thought too hard about them.

_Fuck, does this make me a vigilante now? I killed criminals..._

You shook your head to clear your daze and sat up more. Apparently Matt had regained consciousness whilst you were out because you'd been leaning on him.

“I am so glad you don't drool in your sleep,” he jokes upon sensing you're awake.

“Hey darlin',” Frank says to you, catching your eye in the mirror. “How ya feelin'?”

“Like I'm gonna be bankrupt soon to pay for these impending therapy fees,” you sigh. “Are we here?”

“Yeah we're here,” Frank nods. “I filled Red in and for the record, he don't like your shitty plan either.”

“Well fuck you both,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Don't give him ideas,” Frank points to Matt.

“Oh please,” Matt huffs. “Can we concentrate?”

Frank slowly crawled into the lot before you sprang out of the car and went to the emergency doors before rapping smartly on the wood in a complex fashion. It'd taken you and Jimmy weeks to figure out this place was here and longer to know how to infiltrate it and now here you were using it for criminal purposes. I mean, shit, you were only one week out from raiding the place.

_How the fuck did my life get turned around this fast?_

The door opens and a huge bruiser type looks you up and down, taking in the suit and the blood, which thankfully is obscuring the Punisher skull a lot. You're sure that wouldn't have gone down well.

“Fuck do you want?” he grunts.

“Got a car, need it disappearing. It's a government one,” you say in your best nonchalant voice.

“Oh shit!” another guy says from behind him, wearing greased up overalls. “Yo, let her in. Those SUVs are fucking tricked out, man. Can make big bucks from it.”

“You a cop?” the bruiser guy growls.

“Why would a cop be covered in blood you fucking moron?” the overall guy snorts. “She obviously did some shady shit and needs this car gone. Let her in.”

“Alright, tell your guys to drive forward,” the bruiser type nods.

You nod and walk back, getting into the car.

“Drive in,” you tell Frank.

“I don't fuckin' like this,” Frank murmurs.

“Neither do I,” you admit. “But it's the only shot we have at making it back undetected and alive.”

_Well done, Byrne. You've truly fallen from grace. Hero cop to mass murderer using organised crime groups. What a hell of a twenty four hours...._

 

 


	21. Silence in the Chop Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you get out of the chop shop with your cover in tact?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy guys!  
> Sorry for the long wait. Life has been damn flipping busy lately.  
> Here's the final chapter of this mini story arc and I hope you've enjoyed it.  
> Over 5,000 hits and some 270 kudos <3 I'm absolutely chuffed to bits. You guys make my day!  
> If you have any comments/one shot ideas etc throw 'em down below or if you don't have an account my email is theliveshipparagon@gmail.com / Tumblr: theliveshipparagon .  
> I do take one shots as some of you have seen in this Punisher fic series so don't be afraid :).
> 
> Anyhoo, on with the show!
> 
> Warnings: Angst, light smut.
> 
> -TLP xx
> 
> (As always, proofreading is not my friend)

“Keep ya fuckin' guard up,” Frank murmurs as he pulls into the chop shop. “Red, don't do any stupid shit.”

“Define stupid,” Matt retorts.

“Gotta pretend to be a shitbag. Ain't no heroics in this place,” Frank grunts before stopping the car. “And Byrne, keep that helmet on.”

“What if I-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Swear ta fuckin' god, girl, ya don't obey me on this one thing I'm gonna lose my shit here n' now,” he growls.

You shut the fuck up pretty quickly after that. You knew Frank had limits and they were being severely tested right now going to criminals for help.

“Alright,” you nod to which you receive a curt rumble in response.

Once Frank parks up, you all get out of the car, after you palm the stiletto knife still in Matt's cane for emergencies, and are met by the overall guy along with a more lithe 'gangbanger' type.

“Hey hey!” one of them says in alarm, pulling a pistol out of the back of his jeans. “That's the fuckin' Devil of Hell's Kitchen!”

Well this plan was going swimmingly already...

“Yeah, I'm taking him to someone,” you sigh, thinking on the spot.

“Don't look much like a prisoner,” the guy sneers, keeping his gun trained on Matt.

“She's got my family,” Matt answers and you thank god he's good at improvising.

“I ain't believin' a word a' this shit, are you?” the guy turns to his friend.

Matt takes that opportunity to try and bolt out of the door to make your story more credible and you sprint after him, tackling him against the, now, shuttered door, banging his head off the metal as softly as you can.

“What did I fucking say, huh?!” you yell. “You want me to cut off your daughter's hands, because I can fucking do that! I _own_ you! Get the fuck back to where I tell you to stand!”

As you pull Matt towards the group again you whisper so that only he can pick it up, “I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Matt secretly squeezes your arm to let you know he's alright. You relax a little but not too much. You still have to sell this stupid charade and get out of here in one piece.

You bring out the knife and wave it in front of Matt, “Next time you decide to get frisky, I'll shove this where the sun don't shine. Got it?”

“Just don't hurt my kid,” Matt pleads and you're almost struck by how real he sounds.

You turn to Frank and point, “See that? That's how you get shit done. This is why my way works better than yours.”

“Hey, it's a fuckin' paycheck,” Frank snarls. “Don't give a rat's ass how I get it and if I gotta work with ya then fine.”

“Sorry about this,” you sigh to the two guys. “Good help is hard to find right?”

“Yo, she bounced him off the wall like he was a basketball,” the overall guy laughs. “That's tight. I can respect that. Joey, stop giving her a hard time man.”

“Something still ain't right,” Joey mutters, eyeing you warily. “Two newbies with a government car transporting Daredevil and they look like the goddamn Village People...we should pop 'em, Mendes.”

“Fuck off, man,” Mendes shakes his head. “I want that damn car and I think this lil' lady would be a good contact to have, no?”

“One wrong move,” Joey growls at you. “Just one and you'll be spitting lead.”

“One wrong move and I'll let you down faster than a goddamn balloon,” you fire back, twisting the knife point around your fingers.

Mendes loses his shit at this point, howling with laughter, “Ah man. This chick has got style. Tell me you're single baby?”

You can visibly feel Frank tense up behind you and Mendes notices because another wide grin spreads across his face.

“Ahhhh, I get it. It's cool. Lumberjack over there got feelings. Got some love/hate shit going on with you two,” Mendes nods before going over to Frank's car and popping the bonnet, practically purring at the sight. “Oh goddamnnnn, this is just what I need. Yeah I can make this disappear. What you want for it?”

“Just a change of clothes,” you say, pointing at your suit. “We kinda stand out right now and I gotta get across half of New York to deliver the red boy wonder over there.”

“Well shit. You hear that Joey? I get a shiny new toy and they just want some threads. Best fucking decision I ever made to let you guys in here,” Mendes laughs.

“All we got are guy things,” Joey sneers, clearly annoyed that you were winning his friend over.

“Whatever,” you shrug. “I just don't want blood on it.”

Joey gives you a glower before he stalks off to a back area.

“You got a name, badass lady?” Mendes asks conversationally.

“She got a code name,” Frank interjects for you before you accidentally spill your own one. “We call her Black Velvet.”

“That's a pretty tight name,” Mendes nods. “What about you tough guy?”

“Him?” you point with your thumb. “Executioner. I don't need to go into why, do I?”

Mendes swallows a little and shakes his head, “Yo, it's cool. Well, Velvet...can we call on you sometime if we need some manpower? We got eyes that say the cops are planning to raid this place soon.”

Shit. Fuck shit fucking fuck....

You're so glad the helmet is hiding your face because there's no way you could've pulled your expression back from anything other than shock. How the hell did they know that? You and Jimmy were so careful!

“Oh really?” you say, feigning interest.

“Yeah some wonder cop and some supposedly 'invincible' broad have been tailing us. My guys are tryna take 'em out before they can get here.”

“Those two?” Frank cuts in and you know he's going to try and deflect the spotlight off of you. “They gave us fuckin' grief in Hell's Kitchen. Stubborn bastards.”

“You know them?” Mendes asks as Joey comes back carrying bundles of clothes. “Yo, man, they know the cops who're after us.”

“They do?” Joey says in surprise.

“Oh yeah,” Frank nods. “But they're predictable. Sure as hell that they're gonna raid ya about one week after ya last saw 'em. They did that with Fisk and with Billy Russo too.”

“Shitttttt, yo I didn't know that!” Mendes cries. “That means we got four days to ship out. You better scram guys, we gotta start moving house.”

“Here,” Joey says, throwing the bundles at your feet. “Take it n' fuck off.”

“Thanks,” you nod, bending down to pick up the clothes.

Mendes comes up to you and palms you a business card with a number on it, “Just in case you get tired of picking up vigilantes baby. You know who to call.”

You make a display of unzipping the front of your suit a little and stashing the card in your bra which earns some wide eyes before you wave and start pushing Matt bodily towards the shutter. It opens with a click and you pass the bruiser guy before walking calmly to the service elevator and stepping in, blocking the doors when you've gone up two floors.

“Alright, everyone change,” you order, sorting through the clothes and passing the biggest ones to Frank and the longest trousers to Matt.

“I...in here?” Matt stutters.

“Ain't no time to be shy, Red,” Frank rolls his eyes. “Ya ain't gonna be the only one strippin'.”

“Yeah but you guys can see me, I can't see you,” Matt grumbles.

“Matt, please,” you say and your voice must give away your tired and frightened state because he softens slightly and starts pulling his Daredevil outfit off.

You shed your kevlar suit fast and use the inside lining to wipe your face. It doesn't get all the blood...not even close but there's less of it now.

“Here,” Frank says, passing you a water bottle. “Swiped it from those assholes. Get clean, girl.”

You graciously accept and seeing yourself in the elevator mirror, you can actually pass for normal now, albeit it with slightly wet hair.

You pull on the baggy sweatpants, tightening the cord and slip the hooded top on. It's by no means perfect but it'll do.

“All good?” Matt asks, dressed casually in some slouchy jeans and a t-shirt.

“Wow that's a difference,” you laugh, some of the tension getting to you although you instantly regret it because you can see he becomes self conscious. “Hey, it's not an insult. It'll be fine, ok? We're nearly in the home stretch.”

“Byrne, let's go,” Frank says gruffly. “Can't let our guard down just yet.”

“Alright,” you nod and start the lift again.

You all exit, rushing for the nearest set of stairs and make your way out of the building, you quietly picking up a discarded carrier bag outside where you stuff everyone's soiled clothes in.

“Taxi?” Matt suggests. “I always keep some money hidden on me.”

“I don't wanna know, Red,” Frank groans, putting his hand over his face. “Just...I need to get my girl home.”

“More like I need to get _you_ home,” you snap. “A cab will be a good cover. We'll pay you back, Matt.”

You end up flagging down a cab with a driver who seems to know that asking questions was not a good idea. You're immensely relieved about that because your energy is running on empty and you don't think you could come up with any more lies.

Matt insists you and Frank get home first and you don't fight him on that. Frank was barely holding himself together, despite what he said and you two definitely needed to talk....

You give Matt a long hug and whisper many thank you's when you finally reach your home before making Frank lean on you to walk up the drive and into the house.

The familiar smells, the warmth....it all hits you at once. You made it. You got him back. You're home.

 

**

 

Frank leaned against the wall to take his heavy boots off but barely got one lace undone before he saw you take a step and then crash to the ground, your hands splaying out to stop your fall.

“Byrne!” he shouted in alarm.

“I'm ok,” you said in a shaky voice.

You weren't ok. You weren't fucking ok at all. You'd just gone through hell for him. You'd lied, you'd stolen, you'd killed. Your body was just finally allowed to give out.

“Darlin', I'm puttin' ya to bed,” Frank said firmly. “N' you're gonna call in sick tomorrow too.”

“I can't,” you practically growled. “Too suspicious and I'm fucking fine, Frank. I just need a minute.”

“Just let me-” he started but a look came on your face that he'd never seen before and he never wanted to see again. It was almost like pure hatred.

“FUCK, FRANK! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” you yelled. “Can't a girl just fucking process shit without being babied?!”

“Not when she's lyin' on my goddamn floor screamin' at me,” Frank said stubbornly. “I gotta carry ya to bed? I gotta lock the fuckin' door so ya stay there?”

“Don't you dare,” you snarled. “You've done enough. What was the favour, Frank?”

“What?” Frank blinked, blindsided.

“Fisk's favour. What was it?” you continued, looking angrier and angrier. “Tell me it was fucking worth ignoring. Tell me it was worth _that_.”

Frank paled. Of all the things you could have asked he was hoping you wouldn't ask that one specific question.

“Promise me,” he said softly.

“Promise what?” you spat back and Frank winced internally.

“Promise me ya won't throw away what we have,” Frank said imploringly. “Promise me ya won't stop lovin' me, darlin'.”

He knew there was a good chance this could be a divorceable matter. No favour was worth what he'd put you through, especially not the one Fisk had asked him.

“Tell...me....” you said and Frank could see you were trying really hard to restrain yourself.

“I was supposed ta tell Vanessa...Fisk's girlfriend...I was supposed ta tell her he loved her and that he was gonna come for her soon.”

“And?” you pressed.

“That was it,” Frank murmured, barely wanting to say the words.

“So you made me break into a super-max....you made me kill.....just because you didn't want to deliver a fucking love message?!” you bellowed, struggling up from the floor.

“Please, darlin'. I didn't know,” Frank begged. “I didn't know ya were gonna come into my life. I met ya one goddamn month after I got outta that place.”

“And you could've done it any time after you'd met me, Frank,” you hissed.

He couldn't say anything to that. You were totally fucking right. His only excuse was that he'd forgotten Fisk's request.

_I can't tell her that. She'll walk outta that door n' never come back._

He did the one thing he'd swore he'd never do to you. He lied, “I thought it was a fuckin' bluff. Nothin' for goddamn months. I thought ya were safe.”

“Do I look safe?” you said, trembling and all Frank wanted to do was to hug you so fucking tightly but he shook his head. “God, Frank...I'm a murderer.”

He made a move for you but you sprinted with a quick purpose and moments later he heard the sound of you throwing up in the bathroom.

“I'm a fuckin' asshole,” he muttered to himself before following you and bending down, sweeping your hair out of the way whilst you emptied the meagre contents of your stomach.

Frank noted there wasn't much in the bowl. You'd obviously not eaten well.

_I did this to her...I'm a monster._

“Byrne,” he called softly, after you seemed to have stopped.

“Don't,” you said so venomously that he leant back away from you.

You stood up, grabbing the mouthwash and swilling it directly before you looked at him and Frank's heart nearly broke to see that expression. Haunted is how he'd describe it.

_She's gonna leave me. I fucked up. I fucked up really fuckin' bad._

Then you did something he didn't expect. You socked him straight in the face, sending him falling back into the shower area. He could already taste the blood forming in his mouth.

“I deserved that,” he mumbled. “Hit me again. Go on, girl. Let it out.”

You blanched for a second before the rage obviously took over and you launched yourself on him, kicking and punching at everything you could. It was sloppy but Frank took a small kernel of hope at that. You weren't using your full strength and you weren't aiming to do damage. You still cared.

It wasn't long until the last of your energy was spent and you ended up sobbing on top of him, your hands balled in his sweatshirt. Frank took that opportunity to finally hold you close. You hardly ever cried and it broke him completely to see how distraught you were.

“I'm sorry, Byrne. I'm so fuckin' sorry. I never meant...I'd understand if ya wanted ta leave me,” he said, trying to keep his own voice level.

“You fucking moron!” you yelled from your position buried in his chest. “You think I'd go through all that to get you back and then just kick you to the curb?”

“But you're mad,” Frank said, almost stupidly.

_God-fuckin'-damn, I can't read women for shit._

“I hate what you made me go through, Frank,” you said, your voice straining. “I hate it. That doesn't mean I don't love you. I...I just don't know how to deal with this...I slit a guy's throat right above me and....oh god.”

You dissolved into more tears, hyperventilating as you went into a full on panic attack. Frank quickly wrapped you in his arms, kissing any part of you he could.

_Ya weren't meant for my world, darlin'._

He sat up, still cradling you and reached overhead, putting the shower on so warm water rained down on you both. Warmth always calmed you.

“First thing's first, girl. It was him or you,” Frank said firmly, gripping your cheek so you'd look at him. “Don't ever beat yaself up over a survival instinct. I know what ya goin' through. Been there many years ago. I'll help ya through it. I promise you that.”

“I was so scared,” you whispered. “I was so scared of losing you, of getting Matt killed. Scared of what Fisk would do to me.”

“Don't matter any more,” Frank said softly. “I'm safe. Red's safe. Fisk is bleeding out on a fuckin' prison floor. Ya did it, darlin' n' I'm so fuckin' proud of ya. Ya could've given up on me. I ain't the best husband in the world, I know that but ya still came.”

“You're _my_ husband, Frank,” you sniffled, clutching him tightly. “Even if you are a colossal fucking dumbass who gets me into these situations.”

Frank chuckled slightly. Well he couldn't argue with that.

“Let me kiss ya, girl,” he murmured, pressing his head to yours. “It's been a whole fuckin' day n' that ain't right.”

You tilted your head up and drew him into a long kiss, the water still trickling down on you both. Never mind _you_ , this was calming Frank down too. He never realised how much of a peaceful influence on his life you were. He used to view you as someone to protect, now he saw that you were protecting _him_ in a way, protecting his own sanity from snapping.

“I fuckin' love ya so goddamn much,” Frank said earnestly. “I'm so so sorry, Byrne. All I could think about in that fuckin' place was how I wanted ta see ya again once last time. It ain't fuckin' fair what I put ya through. I'm done. No more running with Red.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” you said seriously. “You'll get bored. I know you.”

“Then I'll be bored,” Frank shrugged. “I'll be a fuckin' house husband, I'll fucking crochet, I don't give a shit. Ain't nothin' worth makin' you do what ya did today. You're my fuckin' warrior, not my fuckin' vigilante.”

“Says the guy who made me a fucking superhero suit,” you scoffed and Frank snorted.

“'Aight, ya got me there,” he nodded. “But it was smart, huh? Got ya measurements from the bridal shop.”

“You just wanted me in a damn catsuit, Castle,” you laughed and boy was it good to hear you fucking laugh again.

“It's a fuckin' crime not to show that ass off to the world,” Frank smirked which earned him a shove to the chest. “Nawww come on, girl, that ain't nice!”

“I just beat the shit out of you and me shoving you is the final straw?” you queried.

“The final straw is that ya wearin' some guy's clothes that ain't mine,” Frank rumbled, flipping you under him and stroking your hair back out of your face. “Ya know how I feel about that shit.”

“So get me out of these clothes and take care of me properly,” you said. “You owe me that much. I've still got blood in some places.”

“Darlin', I'm gonna take damn good care of ya,” Frank smiled.

He knew it was inappropriate but goddamn did he want to feel you again. He wanted to be inside you again. Nothing felt better than being that intimate with you, it was like everything else didn't matter and god knows he could really do with getting lost in the sensation of you right now.

The second he started taking off your clothes in a deliberate teasing way, you protested.

“Frank, you're injured. You really shouldn't be aiming for sex right now,” you said bluntly, trying to squirm away but he wouldn't let you go.

“Didn't stop ya when ya got stabbed. Few bruises ain't gonna stop me,” he shrugged, tugging off the sweatpants until you were naked underneath the torrent of water.

“Few bruises?!” you cried, trying to push him back. “Your bruises have bruises...and those bruises have bruises! You're just held together by damaged tissue at this point!”

Clearly you weren't going to be seduced this time. He could still see the mix of anger and relief swirling on your face. Maybe it was time for more honesty.

“Byrne...I need ya, darlin',” he said, kissing your forehead. “I need my girl. I thought my time was up and I'd never get ta see ya again. I just wanna know this is all real, ya know, that this ain't some goddamn PTSD break n' I'm stuck in the fuckin' prison still.”

“And fucking me will do that?” you said indignantly. “I could just pinch you.”

“Byrne,” Frank said, more firmly this time. “Please.”

You definitely heard the crack in his voice on that last word because you stopped your struggling and really looked at him properly, holding his gaze.

“Let me be close ta ya, darlin'. Let me love ya,” Frank implored, kissing the tip of your nose gently.

You didn't respond in words. You just tipped your head back and kissed him hard. Frank didn't want to play that way though. He always went rough with you because he knew you loved it and you could take it but today....today he just wanted to be....gentle. It was so unlike him but after this many near death experiences and almost losing you multiple times, he was just going to savour the moment of having you naked under him in the shower. His beautiful girl.

He slowed the pace down a lot and he could tell you were surprised. You were even more surprised when he started softly running his hands up your torso and your ribcage, only the pads of his calloused thumbs brushing against your breasts. He could tell you were enjoying it though as you arched subconsciously into his touch.

“This is new,” he heard you gasp as he delicately placed kisses across your stomach.

“Said I was gonna love ya,” Frank murmured. “I intend to keep that promise, Ma'am.”

You'd apparently lost your voice when he moved his kisses up to your neck and throat because only a low moan sounded out when you tried to speak. Frank couldn't help but smile at that. He loved hearing you react to him.

When he moved his hand down in between your legs, he got a surprise of his own.

“No,” you rasped, taking his hand away. “Not today. This is about you Frank.”

“But-” is as far as he got in protest before you started kissing him deeply, wrapping your legs around his back to draw him closer.

In a clumsy movement, Frank lifted himself up to drag his borrowed clothing off before flinging it to some unseen corner of the room and lying himself back down on you.

Fuck...the skin to skin contact felt so fucking good. The way you just both fitted together so perfectly....Frank was so fucking glad he'd made it home.

“I love ya, darlin',” he proclaimed as clearly as he could before he positioned himself against your entrance and glided in with ease.

The sensation of your intense warmth and the warm water beating down on his back made Frank sigh long and deep with contentment. The sound grew even louder when you hooked your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“I love you too, Frank. Don't you ever scare me like that again,” you whispered.

Taking things slow was a new one for Frank but goddamn was he enjoying it. He studied your face as if he was cataloguing every expression as he gently rocked his hips against you. That way your mouth fell open when he hit a particularly good spot, the soft lip bite as you tensed around him, the flutter of your eyelashes as you struggled to keep your composure.

He studied every goddamn inch of you and memorised it.

_You are fuckin' beautiful, darlin' n' I ain't ever lettin' ya go._

 

_**_

 

You awoke in the night, flailing and desperately reached over, expecting everything to just be some dream that you'd played out. Instead of the mattress, your fingers skimmed over Frank's side.

_It wasn't a dream. I really did get him back._

Frank stirred and rolled over onto his back, blinking in the dim moonlight seeping through the curtains.

“'Sup, darlin'?” he mumbled.

“I just...I was frightened you weren't there for a second,” you admit.

“I'm here,” Frank said, pulling you to lie on his chest. “Feel that heartbeat? It's mine. Still kickin', girl. All thanks to you.”

“Sorry I didn't mean to wake you up,” you whisper.

“Ain't a problem, Byrne,” Frank said, kissing the top of your head. “Just go back to sleep. I got ya. Ya gonna stay right here 'til we wake up again, even if my arm goes numb.”

You laugh slightly before settling in further onto his chest. Frank wraps his huge arms around you and all you can feel is a sensation of being safe.

Funny how one day can make such a difference.

 

**

 

You come home the next day after work and Frank is instantly on you once you get in the door, showering you with kisses and hugs. He even presents you with a gift, a new book.

“I can read it to ya tonight,” he beams widely. “Gotta say I miss doin' that.”

“I miss it too,” you smile, his good mood infectious. “Deal.”

“How was work?” he asks, doing a quick scan like he always does to see if you're injured.

“Met a few familiar faces,” you snort. “Let's just say our new found pals Joey and Mendes are sitting in lock up right now and they were real fucking surprised to see us.”

“You raided the goddamn chop shop,” Frank laughs. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

“Yeah well I knew they were packing their shit up, didn't I?” you grin. “Couldn't let them just slip away.”

“There's my girl,” Frank says, smiling with absolute adoration. “Takin' it to the fuckin' scumbags of New York. Nice work, darlin'.”

“Thank you,” you nod, kicking your shoes off. "I heard I made the front page of the news today."

"That you did, darlin'," Frank nods, picking up a copy of the local newspaper which bears the headline ' **Prison massacre: Vigilante justice met to super-max criminals**.' 

A picture of you in your suit with the helmet on, kicking the face of an inmate is on there. Someone must have had a cellphone snuck into the place because you were certain you'd fried all the footage you could. You did note that your Punisher skull was visible and the article seemed to talk a great deal about copycats and the ethics of killing criminals.

"Bunch of tabloid shit," you snort.

"Damn fuckin' right," Frank laughs. "But hey, they called ya a sexy vigilante so it ain't all bad."

"Oh Jesus," you roll your eyes. “ Anyway....Now about this book. Can I put in a request to be read it now because I could use a good wind down.”

Frank picks you up and carries you to the home library you have before settling you down on the squishy beanbags. He pulls his one right next to you and sits down before opening the book and looping one arm around your shoulder, playing idly with your hair.

“We slept in what had once been the gymnasium,” he reads from _The Handmaid's Tale_.

You can't help but relax a lot. Sure the events of yesterday were going to stick with you forever and you're sure you were going to have nightmares for months to come but there was an odd sense of relief in having Frank close. For just a second, as he reads to you, you can pretend there's a semblance of normality again.

You know that's a ridiculous notion though. You're the wife of The Punisher. Normality was never on the cards for you but just for today, just for this brief moment in time...you'll take the small wins where you can.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this goes back on hold until I get another sudden urge to blast a mini story arc or Punisher Season 2 arrives!  
> It's been fun guys!
> 
> xxxxx


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